


Renascent

by gatekat, Verilidaine



Series: Judicium [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mind Games, Mindwipe, Post-War, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 96,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verilidaine/pseuds/Verilidaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Decepticons capture Prowl, the loss of their SIC and tactician is the least of the Autobot's worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End of a Life

**Author's Note:**

> While I (Gatekat) would describe this as fluffy for a dark story, it's still got the full complement of trigger subjects. The Decepticons _did_ win the war, after all, and Jazz is in full manipulation mode.

Jazz sighed in contentment at the pleasure in the field woven with his and the warmth of the frame resting there. Of all the things they did, all the processor-blowing overloads and challenging games they played, these moments stolen when the world was quiet enough for Jazz to play a small light harp for his mate were among the best. Prowl relaxed smoothly, softened as the tension of carrying the army's weight was bled from him by the soft notes, and that was something that Jazz knew no other could do. Anyone could 'face well. But to know Prowl well enough to create a harmony that in the moment would cause him to melt with pleasure and into contentment was a skill crafted from knowing the instrument and knowing the audience. He'd turned it into a craft, and then he'd perfected it. 

"Any preferences?" he murmured, moving his fingers over the beams of light. He still missed having a real harp, with a range ten times that of the one in his hands. He nuzzled against Prowl's helm. "Or is it lady's choice tonight?"

A soft chuckle escaped Prowl. "I will always defer to the lady for what to play. She has such fine sense of tempo."

Jazz's engines purred happily as he selected another song, this one a few beats slower than the last. It was all part of a carefully crafted ritual to liquefy Prowl's struts until he couldn't move. Something he and he alone could, or rather would, do.

Halfway through the song, the jarring red alert alarm jerked Jazz to full tension instantly, including his awareness that Prowl was relaxed enough that it took him a fraction longer to tense and log into the feed.

"I'm going to kill them all," Prowl's low growl was spark-felt, even if they both knew Prime wouldn't allow it and Prowl didn't want to kill anyone, not really.

"Yeah, ya''ll hafta beat me ta it," Jazz said as he tucked his harp back into subspace and jumped up and reviewed the details as they came in. 

Decepticons raiding an oil refinery. Humans calling for help. 

What fun. 

Optimus's roll out came over the comms and Jazz settled onto his wheels as soon as he was in the hall, Prowl on his tail.

It was just another day on Earth, with just another raid leading to just another fight and just another call to retreat by Megatron followed by typical cursing by Ratchet as he did field repairs on the few serious injuries.

All utterly, totally, annoyingly normal.

"Has anyone seen Prowl?" A familiar and twitchy voice called out to anyone who'd answer him.

Jazz was on his pedes immediately, looking around. He commed, and got nothing. "Prowl!" he shouted. Nothing. " _Prowl!_ "

"Jazz..." It was Bumblebee, by his leg. He'd just come from the outskirts of the field. "I ... they took him, I saw it."

"Took ... _who_ , specifically?" Jazz focused instantly as he commed Mirage to get his aft front and center _immediately_.

"Soundwave and crew took him down. The coneheads took him away," Bumblebee answered, doing his best to project a 'don't kill the messenger' field.

Jazz snarled, and his spark sank. 

"With the data they snatched from us last metacycle," Bumblebee said grimly. "They--"

"Ah know," Jazz snapped at him. "Be quiet, ah'm tryin' ta think."

"Jazz." Mirage appeared in front of him, voice low and smooth, and Jazz recognized every technique he'd ever taught his agent on how to keep a SpecOps mech from losing it. "It's time to return to base."

"Every klik they have our SIC and CTO is a klik too many," Jazz growled, his processors fixated on the best way to rescue such a high-profile target.

"Jazz, we can plan in the Ark. A good plan is needed more than speed. Prowl is strong and his processors well defended," Optimus's deep rumble carried far more authority than normal. He too recognized, or simply knew, that Jazz was not in a rational place.

He didn't know how untrue that statement was. The 'Cons knew, now, with their latest data theft, what they could do with Prowl's processors. 

No, they wouldn't get intel. Prowl would never give that up. But they could get something much worse. 

Mirage's hand was on him was steadying. Rushing in would accomplish nothing. They would have to be quick, but smart. The Ark had resources. 

They headed back to base, and Jazz couldn't help but feel that this would not be a rescue mission.

* * *

Systems came online one by one, carefully checked for errors with no sense of time or need beyond confirming that all was well. As it neared the end, personal information finally scrolled through his processors.

Designation: Prowl  
Function: Enforcer  
Specialty: Management

With a sound of relaxed powering up coming to an end, Prowl booted his optics for the first time and sought out his commanding officer to imprint on.

A large, silvery gray mech of unknown origin was looking down at him. "Hello, Prowl," he said. The voice was deep and rumbling. "My designation is Lord Megatron."


	2. A New Enforcer

Dozens of protocols that only functioned once in a lifetime went into a flurry of activity as the large gray mech was set as a priority unto itself. It took more than a full klik, during which Prowl relaxed into the expected changes, grateful that he was to have the guidance he expected. As his started up, Megatron waited patiently for him to respond.

"Status understood, Lord Megatron," Prowl spoke with harmonics of intense loyalty and absolute devotion. Only two things held priority over this being now. The law and the safety of the citizenry.

"Very good," Megatron said, smiling. "You may call me Lord Megatron or my Lord, whichever you prefer. Do you require anything for full functioning?"

"Energy levels are at 86%, all systems reporting functional. I require only orders, Lord Megatron," Prowl responded smoothly, his field relaxed, slightly eager, and completely at ease with his commander.

"The occupants of this unit are unruly," Megatron said. "We are engaged in hostilities with enemies known as the Autobots on a foreign planet, and need to defeat them. I would like you to devise a plan to achieve that goal."

The information was absorbed and fed into a powerful tac-net to be acted upon when more information was available. "Then I will need access to the full personnel files for this unit, what we have on the Autobots and this world. I will produce a plan of action as rapidly as possible, Lord Megatron."

"You will be working closely with Soundwave," Megatron said, sounding pleased. "He is your direct superior and will provide you with whatever you need. You answer to him, and me, and no other. I assume you're ready to get started, so come with me."

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Prowl answered smoothly, easily, and completely truthfully as he stood and followed the much larger mecha through purple halls that were conspicuously empty. 

He took note of the monotonous scenery, unmarked doors, before they stepped into one that looked like any other. Inside he saw what was undoubtedly a control room, with one mech inside who stood as they entered. Red visor, blank facemask, the expressionless manner even reflected into his voice. "Lord Megatron," he droned. 

"Soundwave," Megatron said warmly. "May I introduce Prowl. Give him whatever he needs to perform his function." 

"Yes, Lord Megatron." Soundwave looked at Prowl. At least Prowl thought he did.

With that Megatron turned to leave the pair in the security center.

"I require all information available on this unit, those we face and this world," Prowl explained his immediate requirements.

"Understood," Soundwave said, and gestured for Prowl to sit. He thought he teeked uncertainty in the mech's field as he passed him, but it was quickly gone. "Soundwave: has cued a brief history of Cybertron and the war. Our resources and personnel: listed afterwards. Following: all known Autobot combatants, skills, and resources. Lastly: nuances of the planet that have proved significant. Further information: will be provided as requested."

"Understood, sir," Prowl answered easily as he plugged in without hesitation and began to download the data for assimilation and processing. It felt good to lose himself in the ebb and flow of the information, and soon he'd shut down all but the most important of his external sensors. This place was safe, so he was safe to devote more resources to his processing task.

After a while he sensed Soundwave leaving, and after that nothing in the room moved until he was nearly finished, when he was suddenly aware of something by his arm. He powered on his optics and saw one of the microbots--Frenzy, he placed--holding a cube of energon. 

"Boss says this is for you," he said.

"Thank you," Prowl accepted the cube and began to drink without question as he went back to processing.

"So uh, how're you likin' everything?" the cassette asked, not taking the hint.

Prowl powered up his optics once more to look at the tiny black and red mecha. "What little I have experienced is agreeable. The files indicate it will be the work of decaorns to discipline this unit into a functional force capable of defeating the Autobots."

"Tellin' me!" Frenzy said with a snicker before peering curiously at the screens. "Is it strange just wakin' up and goin' right to work?"

"Frenzy: desist," Soundwave's voice came from the door. "Prowl: requires peace."

"Boss, he was talking just fine," Frenzy countered.

"Prowl: not old enough to realize Prowl is allowed to tell Frenzy to silence," Soundwave told them both.

"Understood, sir," Prowl responded, then glanced at Frenzy. "I have work to do."

The microbot huffed but complied before leaving.

"Prowl: status."

"Data acquisition is 87.994% complete. I anticipate three to four orns to produce the plans that Lord Megatron requested," Prowl responded.

"Lord Megatron: will desire immediate results," Soundwave said as he came over and looked at the screens as they rapidly scrolled through the data Prowl was downloading. "Soundwave: suspects it will take much more work."

"This unit is that resistant to order?" Prowl scowled with an unfiltered wave of distaste and almost-anger in his field before it settled again.

Soundwave made a sound that resembled a sigh. "Presently: this unit: more likely to self-destruct than to defeat the Autobots. Prowl: is a much-needed resource." 

"Apparently. What can you tell me of the discipline issues and methods used to correct it so far that may not be in the files, sir?" Prowl requested politely.

"Discipline issues: numerous," Soundwave lamented. "Mutinous attempts: frequent. Starscream: is a particularly notable example. Others: follow his lead. Discipline: is random in both type and application." He pulled up a list of the last decaorn's offenses and the punishments received, ranging from stern looks to full beatings and brig time. "In my opinion: it is a fair sample." 

Prowl regarded it and hummed, his field thoughtful and his expression matching, for the tiny amount it moved. "Based on my files, the key issue seems to be consistency. Punishments are erratic." He attempted to find linked files and frowned. "Are the investigations above my clearance, sir?"

Soundwave teeked confused for a moment, and then there was a flush of comprehension. "Investigations: are not conducted," he explained.

Prowl stilled, phrasing the statement several times in an effort to understand. His optics flickered slightly and his frame wavered before he studied himself. "That much change if discipline and order are to be instilled."

Speaking to a superior officer, and there was no "sir".

Only the statement against something so alien and horrifying that Prowl could barely grasp it.

"Lord Megatron: has given you free reign to manage and control as you see fit," Soundwave said. "Soundwave: is personally looking forward to the results."

"Yes." Prowl hesitated. "Why has he not given you that authority, sir? From the records you maintain and gather, you have more than sufficient skill to maintain order."

"Management: is not Soundwave's function," Soundwave said. "My purpose: is to serve Lord Megatron's wishes. Soundwave: would be an inefficient manager."

Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance of the statement. "Then your records and surveillance will be a great asset to me in managing these mecha." He paused again for a few kliks as he downloaded data. "Soundwave, does Lord Megatron have any quirks I should be aware of?"

"Lord Megatron: does not like to be directly contradicted," Soundwave said carefully. "Subtlety: is key. "Prowl: may direct any necessary information through Soundwave should Prowl feel more comfortable doing so."

The Praxian relaxed a bit and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Much to Soundwave's relief, the response was genuine. Just as the files indicated, a Praxian Enforcer was a team player by coding. He _wanted_ to trust superiors and subordinates, though Prowl was not foolish enough to do so automatically.

If he survived the first decaorn of trying to instill discipline, he would do very well, and so would the Decepticon army.

* * *

Prowl spent nearly ten orns locked away in the office, and then his official quarters--bare, and small, but at least private--designing and constructing, hooked into the security systems to monitor ongoing activity. 

The state of the ship and its crew was deplorable. Assault was commonplace, mecha took what they wanted of each other, those lucky enough to have friends could extract revenge, others stayed away from the common areas. 

Anarchy. 

It made the poor Enforcer's coding shudder with revulsion.

Soundwave was correct. This would take much longer than a decaorn or two to sort out. These mecha weren't just without rules, they were without even the most basic of social understanding. 

That was going to have to change.

It took him another two orns to complete the rules and procedures for the first phase of three to try to civilize these habitual criminals.

Now he was staring at it, preparing himself for the first confrontation and test of his authority here, and he was hesitating.

It took a few kliks for him to locate the reason he was so uneasy.

Prowl was alone.

He had the unit commander's authorization, an ally in Soundwave, his direct commander, but to enforce law and order upon this mob he would need more.

Settled, he pinged a comm request to Soundwave.

::Prowl: requires anything?:: the host asked. 

::Yes, sir. I would appreciate a list of any mecha, officers or not, that are capable of being trained as security and not abuse it,:: he responded. ::I hope more than our designations will be on that list.::

::Understood,:: Soundwave said. ::A list: will be completed within the orn.::

::Thank you, sir,:: Prowl responded and closed the comm. He steadied himself as he walked to what passed for a medical facility.

The few he passed all looked at him with expressions he found difficult to interpret. Fearful, suspicious, shocked. 

A purple and black Seeker suddenly appeared in front of him. "Hey Prowl," he said. 

"Skywarp," Prowl flicked one doorwing in a greeting to a relative equal once he found his balance from rocking back at the sudden intrusion into his personal space.

The lack of functional ranks was something else he needed to address.

The flier flicked his wings and leaned in closer, head tilted, peering. "So you really are a 'Con?" he asked. 

"Of course I am." Prowl scowled at him. "I serve Lord Megatron. Do you need something of me?"

Skywarp just grinned. "Crazy," he said, and vanished. 

Prowl shook his helm and made a personal note on Skywarp's file that he was strange before walking into the medical bay. "Hook!"

The resident medic's helm appeared up over a berth and he gave a startled shout before quickly and apparently forcefully calming. "Oh--uh, right. Prowl." He stood and came over, looking dubious. "Can I ... help you?"

"Lord Megatron has charged me with turning this unit into an effective fighting unit," Prowl opened with his reasons. "To accomplish that, several standards must change, including those involved in extracting payment for medical services. For the good of the army, _all_ mecha must be in optimal condition at all times. That is what the army paid you and your assistants to do."

"Well, it's at least what I get energon for," Hook said. "If it comes from Megatron himself I suppose I can do that. You will need to ensure I have the supplies I need, that's what payment is used for." 

"Yes, the supply issues are on my agenda. There are no excuses for the way it is currently handled," Prowl said firmly. "Ensure that the inventory needs are in the system so I know what to have acquired. Do you have any forensic or investigative training?"

"I ... what? No, why would I?" Hook asked, shrugging. "I build things. Sometimes it's mecha. And I'll stop taking payment when I have the supplies I need in hand."

"I was hopeful we would have a medic with such training," Prowl said simply and offered Hook a datapad. "I will see to your supplies. These are the new rules I expect to be followed along with the punishments for breaking them. Do work on your subordinates. There will be rewards for unit compliance."

"Uh ... sure," Hook said, visor brightening. "Sure thing. Good luck with all this," he added with a laugh. "Brig time? Sure as slag that won't do anything."

"It is a step in the escalation process. The punishment listed is the minimum for a first offence. It does get more severe. You will find that under section 16B," Prowl responded. "Standardization is a key to an orderly society. I will find _something_ that gets through to their core processors so they obey basic social code, or they will be wiped clean and installed with coding to ensure their new personality matrix develops in a suitable manner."

Hook's visor got brighter. "Sure thing," he said, shaking his head. "Whatever you want, boss. I'll just be here, fixin' things."

Prowl nodded. "Don't worry about being called on to reformat anyone. Soundwave has that duty. Do you have any questions at this time?"

"No, this is very thorough," Hook said. He sounded amused. "I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you before long with this kind of crackdown."

"Regrettably likely," Prowl agreed and turned to leave, intent on speaking with Megatron about his other plans and to ensure he had the authority to requisition supplies and the other aspects that fell beyond discipline. Soundwave had seen and approved. Now it was time to make his case to their Lord.

He pinged Megatron's office door to request admittance.

"Come in," Megatron rumbled warmly as it opened. "Prowl, how are things going?"

"Quite well, Lord Megatron," Prowl dipped his doorwings in respect and offered the giant a datapad. "I have the full outline of my intended plan for your review, though I do wish confirmation of authority for some aspects."

"You already have authority," Megatron said as he accepted and started to review. "What could possibly need extra?"

"The energon production project does not fall directly under discipline in my assessment, my Lord," Prowl said smoothly. "However, it would be a great asset to our military readiness to have a functionally unlimited supply. There are also supply issues that I wished to confirm that I had authority to deal with."

Megatron didn't answer, and he was suddenly frowning deeply. "The time and resources you want to put into energon production seem ... _excessive,_ " he said, gaze moving to Prowl. "Could that time not be better spent elsewhere? Like in defeating the Autobots?"

"In order to defeat our enemies, the army must be well-fueled, well-repaired, well-armed, well-disciplined and with a tactical plan that is effective. We currently have only one of those five elements in place. Victory will come with all five, my Lord," Prowl explained.

Megatron's gaze narrowed. "Fine. Make your energon production facilities. You have the authority to appoint and oversee all matters. Will that solve the supply issues you mentioned?" 

"Yes. Thank you, my Lord," Prowl lowered his wings in a Praxian bow. "I will win this war for you with this army. I do have one additional request, if my Lord would indulge me. The maintenance of the army is in tatters. I have dealt with the cause of the problem, though I believe it would be of benefit if you, rather than I, made the announcement to the general population," Prowl requested.

"Absolutely," Megatron said, returning to the prepared document and nodding at the points as he read them. "This here, about material belonging to the whole of the army, rather than any one source?" 

"Yes, my Lord," Prowl said. 

"I will do so," Megatron said. "I will also reinforce your position to the troops. Any who disobey you are to be punished in whatever way you see fitting. I need you to whip these mecha into shape." 

"I will, my Lord." 

"See that you do. I am pleased with your progress," Megatron said, the expression not quite matching the warm tone, but there was approval there, and it was all Prowl needed. He knew his field expressed his pleasure in his commander's faith in him.

"Thank you, my Lord," Prowl remembered non-winged frame language and bowed slightly. "Is there anything in my plan you wish to discuss before I implement it?"

Megatron hummed thoughtfully. "What's this here about Starscream and the Constructicons being reassigned from their normal duties?" he asked, going back up.

"Based on their files, they are the most likely to complete the energon production facilities the quickest," Prowl explained.

"Hmm. I will warn you, Starscream takes a _firm_ hand. The Constructicons should be pliant enough, however, provided they feel adequately compensated." Megatron began reading in more detail, the skimming he'd initially done ceased. "'New' laws?" he questioned. "Why should the soldiers need anything beyond what they already have? They are here to serve me."

"Discipline requires laws as well as enforcement. When mecha are not damaged or underfueled by activities unrelated to battle, they fight better," Prowl explained. "Many of the new laws also serve the function of reinforcing the idea and fact that we are _better_ than the corrupt government that we are fighting to replace."

Megatron's mouth curved up. "How true," he said. "You are quite an ambitious mech, many of these so-called laws are broken ornly. Theft, personal violation..." He glanced up at Prowl. "Verbal harassment?"

"Starscream." Prowl responded, not sure whether to laugh or scowl. "He uses his vocalizer where most use their fists or spike."

"That I will not deny," Megatron chuckled. A few kliks passed in silence as he continued to read and Prowl waited to either be dismissed or questioned. "Rewards for good behavior? Not being punished isn't reward enough?"

"One would wish so, however it is well documented that many mecha who are resistant to correction via punishment respond well to rewards for behaving well, my Lord," Prowl explained. "It also allows a more direct method of pressuring unit leaders to control their soldiers so I do not have to spend as many resources dealing with minor infractions. The system is set up where rewards are not just on the individual level, but also a unit level. Commanders and units who supervise their soldiers and each other effectively are rewarded for efficient behavior."

"I see," Megatron said. "That all sounds perfectly logical. Now, as for the matter of appointing 'lieutenants' ... I agree that Thundercracker makes a good choice, but I am concerned about the reactions of the others to have a former equal suddenly over them. You are a new face, they can accept that better."

Prowl cocked his helm and processed the statement several times. "I did not view becoming a security officer as a promotion, but as a transfer. If it will be a problem for the army at this point, I will have them perform duties that are not directly involved with disciplining others while still part of the security force. If that would be agreeable to my Lord?"

"I believe that would be best," Megatron said. "I'm not sure you understand the environment these soldiers live in. In time, if I feel comfortable, you can create a security department. Right now, I want obedient and equal members of an army."

"Understood, my Lord. I will adjust my plans accordingly," Prowl responded smoothly and honestly. "Is there anything else of concern?"

Megatron looked down at the datapad one more time, then back to Prowl. "No one will be reformatted without my approval," he rumbled. "And an excellent reason to do so."

"Absolutely, my Lord," Prowl didn't hide his surprise at the idea that he wouldn't seek approval for such a drastic action. "'All capital punishments require your signature. De-framing and execution would also require your authorization for each individual case."

"Very good," Megatron said, and smiled. "You are doing an _excellent_ job, Prowl. We will have the Autobots defeated in no time."

Prowl couldn't help but flush slightly at the praise. "That is the goal of all this effort, my Lord. When the Autobots have been defeated, we will be ready to find, reclaim and rebuild Cybertron for you."

* * *

Two orns after Prowl had presented his plans to Megatron, the Nemesis was in an uproar, but to Megatron's growing pleasure, even he was beginning to see results. He'd wondered about the lack of military focus in the original plans he'd been given, only to realize that while they may not have had much written on them, Prowl had slotted a full third of every orn to military drills and training. Most mecha were too tired to cause trouble, and even Starscream was on unusually good behavior. He was all too happy for his energon production project and the freedom to drill his Seekers far harder than normal.

 _Why_ Starscream needed to be told to drill them as hard as he wanted to was beyond Megatron, but he had long since given up trying to understand his high-strung and erratic Air Commander. The mech got results when it counted. The way Thundercracker had begun to move since his promotion was also entertaining, if no less confusing. The blue Seeker went from moody and sulking to proudly cruising the Nemesis at random joors and acting like the commanding officer Megatron had long known he was capable of being.

Yet all this efficiency and activity also had its concerns. The mecha capable of this was capable of deposing him.

"Enter!" he called to Soundwave when the Communications Officer pinged his officer door. "Come, sit and drink," Megatron motioned to the chair across from him and the good high grade there.

Soundwave crossed smoothly and accepted the cube. Megatron had to be in a very good mood for the hospitality. He slid back his faceplate and took a sip, watching Megatron's expression. So far, so good. "My Lord: summoned me?" 

"Yes, I wish to discuss Prowl. His progress and his intentions," Megatron requested as he sipped his own cube.

"Understood," Soundwave said, nodding, and set the cube aside so he could fully focus on his Lord's desires and wishes. "My Lord Megatron: is concerned by Prowl's efficacy. His skills: are not a surprise to us."

"No, but the ambition evident in the plan was not," Megatron pointed out. "He took orders to defeat the enemy and created an entire social order out of it. Though I must admit his results are beyond what I expected so soon."

Soundwave brightened with comprehension. "Soundwave: understands," he said. "Prowl's entire existence: now devoted to serving Lord Megatron. His social order: to prepare for a post-war world. Mind-wipe and rebooting: entirely successful." 

Megatron mulled that over. "He has no ambition to command?"

"Negative, my Lord," Soundwave murmured. "Prowl's design: is much like Soundwave's own. Programmed: for middle management, not command. For pre-programmed mecha: ambition is a sign of defect. Incomprehensible. Prowl: has no ambition for power. Ambitions, should they arise: will be personal in nature. Example: relationship with Autobot Jazz."

Megaton hummed thoughtfully. "Will encouraging or discouraging such ambitions be more advantageous? He deserves to be rewarded, but not if it will break him."

"Most advantageous: will be to allow him to serve as directed with frequent praise, while not directing his personal and private life," Soundwave said. "The two: shall not conflict."

Megatron nodded, accepting the advice. "So how is he doing, other than being efficient? I've noticed he doesn't like Starscream."

"Starscream: a chaotic force. Prowl: programmed to contain, control or eliminate chaos. Prowl and Starscream: natural antagonists. Additionally: Starscream annoys everyone."

"Should be interesting when they finally do collide," Megatron chuckled. "And how are the Autobots without their precious CTO? Have you managed to recover any surveillance?"

"Surveillance: easier," Soundwave responded. "Prowl: did far more for Autobots than first assumed. Autobots: struggling to perform functions Prowl once did. Inventory, scheduling, security, payroll, discipline: all failing. Greatest effect: new SIC Jazz grieving more than expected. Expected performance: reduced by 32%."

"Excellent," Megatron rumbled happily. "I look forward to their expressions when they realize what has happened to him. It should be priceless."

"Yes, my Lord," Soundwave said, dipping his helm in agreement before picking up the high grade again. "Additionally: in the unlikely event Prowl is recovered by the Autobots, they will be unable to restore him. Wipe: was full. His previous life: is gone. All Autobot backups of Prowl's knowledge: wiped. Sentimental Autobots: would find such a reality disturbing and disrupting."

"Even better," Megatron rumbled with mounting joy. "You deserve to be commended for recovering the intel that brought us this boon." He leaned forward a bit. "What does Soundwave desire?"

"Soundwave desires: to serve," the telepath murmured, pleasure in his field from the praise.

"Soundwave serves me very well," Megatron deepened the praise, unusually honest sincerity in his field. "You have earned my trust as no other. Do you have any concerns about our new recruit or his plan?"

"None, my Lord," Soundwave said, coding rippling with joy at the intensity of Megatron's approval. "Soundwave: is very optimistic about Prowl and his methods."

"Excellent," Megatron grinned as topics turned to more mundane things simply to enjoy energon over.


	3. Punishments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though Eradicons are a TFP/Alliance thing, this is a G1 story. We just found them too useful for the story not to bring them in.

An honest-to-Primus officers' meeting was something the Decepticon base had not seen in a very long time, but now that one had been called, it was running smoothly. Previously, they had served as opportunity for the officers to yell at each other across the large table, and for Megatron and Starscream to fall into one of their infamous spats . Things usually ended when everyone else fled before Starscream could start screaming. 

This meeting, though, was strangely civilized. More than a few suspected it was because of who was running it. Prowl might be incredibly deferential, a downright Soundwave mimic, towards Megatron, but in the three decaorns since he'd come online as a Decepticon, he'd proven to be an organizational master worthy of respect. Not only that, he'd also wiped any thoughts that he was soft-sparked in nature by how he handled discipline. Everyone had laughed about brig time, right up to the third orn when the first Decepticon moved to the next level of punishment.

No one had seen it coming, and no one wanted to face it. Vocalizer muted, locked in a stockade for two orns in the grunt's rec room, open to every abuse that didn't cause enough damage needed to send him to Hook. Every moment recorded and left available for any to view. Everyone had fun with it, from getting off in the exposed valve to cuts to graffiti to just taunting, but everyone remembered that was what came after brig time.

After that, someone had apparently decided they didn't care about that punishment, or maybe they had just wanted to test Prowl's resolve, because the verbal disrespect offered to Prowl in the hallway had been in front of Megatron himself. It had also been swiftly answered. The mech had been taken straight to Hook to have his optics and vocalizer disabled for three orns after Prowl had dropped him and cuffed him himself.

Lesson two: Prowl knew how to fight and fight dirty.

Lesson three: Prowl had a cruel streak deserving of any Con when it came to punishments.

Another mech, on his third punishment for dereliction of duty in as many decaorns, was a lesson for unit commanders as much as offenders. Control your mecha or face punishment with them. The pair had to clean the grunts' washracks to sparkling new with two brushes smaller than Prowl's finger under the watch of a very irritated Thundercracker, who was missing out on flight time thanks to them.

Lesson four: Prowl was creative in his cruelty.

No one asked what Thundercracker did to the pair.

During the meeting, Prowl couldn't help but notice that many of the officers were giving him worried looks, as though expecting him to find some new form of punishment right then and there. Or perhaps they were concerned about Megatron's ability to trust a new face so quickly. 

Either way, Prowl didn't mind. He sat straight and calm throughout the entire thing, provided his reports when prompted, and gracefully got up only after Megatron dismissed them all, pleased with the orn's work.

That worked right up to the moment that Starscream's wing bumped his doorwing. Not even Prowl knew why he hissed that aggressively, his doorwings flared in threat. He only knew he _hated_ Starscream with a strength that came from his spark.

"Watch where you're going, you two-bit pre-prog!" the Seeker snarled back, shoving him.

The hiss turned into an outright growl and flare of challenge as Prowl dropped into an reflexive combat stance that wasn't recognizable to those around him. "Check your vocalizer or have it checked for you."

Soundwave glanced at Megatron, trying to assess their volatile leader's reaction to his two prize officers getting ready to square off in a fight.

Megatron only looked back mildly, and Starscream swung back to Prowl. "Make me," he said. "I'd like to see you-- _ack!_ " the challenge was cut off when Prowl moved, fast and intent, to drive his fingers into Starscream's throat.

Starscream struck back with the heel of his hand, aiming for Prowl's forehelm, while bringing his knee up to smash into his opponent's middle. A screech of pain escaped the Seeker when Prowl's off hand slammed into the exposed knee joint and the smaller mech rolled with the rest of the strike to land on both pedes a length away.

Starscream's leg buckled under the next step but he still lunged forward, claws out and wings up, going for Prowl's doorwings. The Praxian dove down, grabbing the undamaged leg's ankle as he moved under Starscream and squeezed as his momentum pulled Starscream the rest of the way off balance. Without a sound Prowl let go and twisted to his pedes with a lunge, claws out and denta bared.

Starscream crashed to the ground on his side, and didn't have enough time to twist around to his back before Prowl was on top of him, claws sinking in. He shrieked and tried to elbow him off. Even when the strike hit, and hit hard enough to break metal on both their frames, Prowl gouged into wide, proud wings as he struggled to hold on, keep the larger mech on the ground, and get his hands in the wing joints enough to tear them out.

Starscream froze immediately, and his claws retracted as panic and desperation flared through his field. "Not my wings, please not my wings!"

Prowl, his claws lodged into Starscream's wing joints paused at the teek and regarded the mech going fearfully lax under him. "Never threaten mine again."

"I won't!" Starscream promised with wide optics, staying still. Prowl snarled once more in warning before moving to rise. The moment his back was turned, Starscream lunged and sank his claws into the doorwing panels.

"Should not have done that," Prowl growled dangerously as he flicked his doorwings in an awkward cycle to unhook the claws, accepting the tears that came with it before twisting on one pede to slam his reinforced lower leg into Starscream's hip.

The surprise that Prowl had even managed to get free was immediately replaced with _pain_ and Starscream screeched as he stumbled halfway, grabbing onto Prowl to stay upright, trying to claw his face. Instead he had the hand bitten, hard, and Prowl's hands came up to grab his helm to _twist_.

Starscream screamed and cables snapped as he started to beg for mercy, hands flailing erratically. A twisting motion put the Seeker face down with Prowl on his back. White claws dripping with energon made one more tear in Starscream's throat, sending the vocalizer skidding across the floor. Wing joints were torn into next, and despite Starscream's panic and surrender, they were torn clear, each shoved in opposite directions.

As the Seeker shook and sobbed and pleaded with his field, Prowl shifted and dug his claws into Starscream's valve cover.

It tried to open to avoid the damage but was torn off halfway and Starscream's field spiked with rage and panic and humiliation. The Seeker's optics looked desperately to Megatron as he mouth opened in a silent plea, but the commander looked silently on, and said nothing as Prowl shoved in. A hand grabbed Starscream's helm and shoved his face into the floor.

Every optic was watching Starscream being dominated and fragged through the floor by their newest officer, but only Soundwave could tell this wasn't a normal post-conflict 'facing. Only he could read how detached Prowl had to make himself to go through with it. He was going through motions that he perceived as expected, not something he wanted or enjoyed. As the overload crested across the black and white frame with a low groan, Soundwave picked up something else he found far more important.

Prowl was already thinking through lower ranked mecha for who to bribe into his berth.

Starscream slumped forward, completely oblivious to it. His hands relaxed, and there were claw marks on the floor beneath them. The broken wing joints oozed energon and oil, and the remaining stumps were shuddering. Optics offline, he kept his face hidden.

Prowl pulled out, leaving the abused valve oozing transfluid, and leaned forward to whisper in Starscream's audial. "Keep picking fights. I want to finish a collection of wings for my office."

Starscream's helm snapped around with murderous red optics, but without his vocalizer, couldn't make any threat. His engines stayed tellingly silent.

"Coward," Megatron chuckled.

With that Prowl stood, claimed Starscream's left wing and walked out of the control center like nothing unusual had happened. 

* * *

Prowl glared at the bare, injured back in front of him, pulling the whip back for another strike. The grunts in this army were insubordinate and refused to take him seriously. He had no idea how the Decepticons had managed this far against an obviously better organized enemy, but they had, and now he had to make them _better_ , even if it meant completely destroying them first. He had his orders, and no processor-deficient grunt was going to make him fail.

The lash cracked across the sparking, oozing back and whipped around the shaking frame to sink hooks into the chest and tear as it was pulled back for a strike along the other direction.

He _hated_ this. It was a waste of resources, waste of time, waste of effort. All that frustration came out in a snarl as the strikes continued. There were still six more mecha in this unit to discipline. He'd be at this half the orn.

"Really whipping things into shape, aren't you?" came the mild comment from the door. Doorwings tilted and rapidly took in the size and shape, as if the voice hadn't been enough.

"Attempting to get through processors too dense to understand pain, my Lord," Prowl grumbled as he struck again. "Reformatting will need to be addressed very soon with some of them."

"Understood," Megatron said. "There are a few I'd like not to lose, but some can be afforded. How are things going, otherwise?" 

"Progress has been good in every unit where _intelligence_ prevails, my Lord," Prowl responded respectfully as he moved to unlock the shackles holding his whipping post upright. The mecha dropped instantly, no strength in his frame. "Move him. You," he pointed to one of those watching. "There." He pointed to the puddle of energon and fluid on the floor. "It's time to learn what coddling incompetence results in." He turned his helm to Megatron as one of those watching pulled the beaten mech away. "It is the low-level grunts that seem to have the most difficulty grasping what is expected of them."

"I am not surprised," Megatron said, gaze moving over those who were waiting. "Your work here had been admirable, Prowl. I wish we'd had you all along."

"I wish I had been here all along as well, my Lord," Prowl said before dropping to avoid a punch that was coming from the mech he intended to whip next. He came up hard and fast, catching his assailant under the jaw with the full strength of his frame. "We would unquestionably be in a better position if I had managed these ... _malfunctioning drones_ ... from the start."

"No doubt," Megatron said as he watched with a mixture of pride, awe and pleasure as Prowl strung up the larger mech and used the first strike of the whip to rip the spike cover off. "Many lives could have been saved, I'm sure. But you're here now, which is the important thing."

* * *

Prowl glided into the bay where the lowest of the grunts, so-called eradicons, were housed. Despite that he'd been told they were merely drones, he knew better after two metacycles of study and training. They were mecha. Mecha with substandard construction and compliance coding that made his pale in comparison. He knew none would understand why he came among these soldiers to select a lover, but he didn't care either. He knew what he wanted and he intended to have it.

Unlike the grunts one rank above them who had official designations, grunts who gave Prowl no end of trouble, these mecha were not particularly afraid of him. They had no reason to be. They behaved. He was only dangerous to those who didn't.

So Prowl walked among the supposedly without-designation drones, watched them go about their orn, bow to him in respect, and generally react like he wasn't something to worry about. He listened to the quiet pings of IDs, searching out the one he wanted. Among his own kind, 1756-18F was called Slats, though Prowl hadn't determined why, or if there was even any method to the designations they gave each other. They tended to be simple, part- or function-based.

"1756-18F," Prowl called out evenly when he received the ping from the eradicon's transmitter. The drone-like mecha all looked his way, and then one of the multitudes of nearly identical faces stepped forward. 

"Yes, Prowl, sir!" he said smartly, coming to perfect attention.

"Do you have a lover?" Prowl asked, knowing the cascade of confusion he'd caused. Very few realized that eradicons were fully functional, physically and mentally.

"No, sir," Slats said. "Not at present, sir," he corrected after a moment. 

"Will you consent to be mine, without threat of harm for refusal?" Prowl asked politely.

Generic flight-frame wings twitched up, and the visor brightened with surprise. "May ... I have some time to consider my answer, sir?" Slats asked. 

"Affirmative," Prowl inclined his doorwings fractionally. "I am not difficult to find when you have decided," he added before turning to leave.

"Sir," Slats called quickly. "If it is not too bold of me to ask, why?"

"It is not," Prowl said as he turned to face the flying eradicon. "My opportunities to interface without anger are limited among the regular ranks. You have traits I find appealing and eradicons are far enough down the rank structure that one sharing my berth will not be used against me. Unlike those with known designations, your actions will not reflect poorly on me should something happen, nor are you likely to be held or threatened to modify my behavior."

Slats nodded. "Then I accept, sir," he said. "That was all the time I needed." 

Prowl allowed a slight smile to play across his features. "Do you have a preferred designation?"

"Slats," the drone said. "That's what everyone calls me. I can change it if you'd like, sir."

"No, Slats is good. Come to my quarters at joor 30," Prowl's doorwings gave a tiny twitch of anticipation. "Do you have any questions before then?"

"None, sir," the flier said with his own excited lift. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll see you then," Prowl didn't hide the purr he felt rise in him before he turned to leave, looking forward to finishing his work to take a slightly longer than usual recharge period to enjoy himself some.

* * *

Prowl was lounging on his berth, one hand stroking along his frame as his anticipation build up the charge. He hadn't thought about interfacing before Starscream, but he'd barely stopped thinking about it since. His frame was hungry for it, and he'd then realized that it always had been. It was just that he had come online with this desire, it had never registered as a change to him. But now that he'd had one overload with a partner, however unwilling, and one by his hand, it seemed to make the lack of interfacing glaringly obvious. He'd also discovered that manual stimulation wasn't a good answer.

It was a very strange design choice, he mused, but he wasn't one to question it. He had a need, it would be met in a practical way. 

The door pinged and Prowl opened it to let Slats in. 

"Hello, sir," Slats said, optic V taking in the senior officer's quarters with an easy sweep before focusing on the Praxian lounged on the berth.

The door closed. "Hello, Slats. I am Prowl to you in here," he said as he curled forward to sit up and extended a hand. "Have any of your previous lovers preferred their spike?"

"Some, Prowl," the eradicon said easily as he stepped closer. "Most I've known have been fairly equal in preference. Do you prefer your spike?"

"Yes," Prowl nodded. "I'm glad you have experience, however, as mine is very limited."

The eradicon tilted his head, then nodded. "Of course," he said, coming over to the berth and putting his hand on Prowl's leg to feel as much as teek the deep arousal in the frame. "Would you like me to take direction, or direct me where to begin?"

Prowl gave a thoughtful hum before deciding. "As you currently know more than I do, you may take the lead tonight."

"Thank you, Prowl," Slats said warmly before shifting onto the berth and moving between Prowl's legs. He leaned forward and nuzzled against Prowl's abdomen, his fingers going to the hip joints and teasing against them. Pleasure flared through Prowl's frame and he didn't hide the low moan. "My build specifications did not include an oral compartment, although you may wish to find a lover with one at some point. It is very pleasurable."

"I will consider that," Prowl allowed his helm to fall back and simply enjoyed the touch as it traveled across his pelvic girdle until his spike cover snapped open on its own.

Slats didn't pay any attention to it for the next few kliks as he continued to tweak and play with the exposed hip cabling, plucking wires that each flared with little shocks. Prowl's spike started to pressurize, the tip poking out a little, and Slats finally moved one hand over to it to cup around it and rub. Prowl shivered and pressed into the touch, the intensity of _newness_ full in his field as he tried to assimilate the difference between a willing touch, his own, and an unwilling valve.

"You really _are_ new," Slats chuckled and lifted his head to look down at Prowl's spike. "Wow. Most of us that's one of the first things. How's it feel?" he asked, with two fingers around the tip, massaging in circles.

"Intense. Very good," Prowl moaned, shameless in the grip of the pleasure.

"Good," Slats said, and nuzzled Prowl's pelvis. His faceplate was warm, and the x-vents from his side vents felt amazing on heated metal. He gradually shifted down and back to be able to press his face to Prowl's spike while stroking it with one hand, and the other rubbed Prowl's thigh. "How do you know you prefer your spike?" he asked curiously.

"Starscream challenged me. I won," Prowl had to work to focus enough to answer. "Felt good for me."

Slats nodded and rubbed his palm up along the entire length as it clicked into full pressurization, following after with his faceplate. The spike quivered under his touch and he slid his valve cover back, and reached down to run his fingers through the lubricant and then brought it back to help slick the spike. "Smell good?" he asked.

"Yes," Prowl watched in utter fascination, both at his own reactions and those of a willing lover. It was an effort to remain relatively still and not roll forward to push Slats to his back and take him, but Prowl managed it.

Slats chuckled and moved up into a straddle over him. "Yeah, newly onlined ones are always impatient," he said, and lined Prowl's spike up with his valve. He rubbed the tip around his opening a few times and then sank down. Prowl's helm fell back with a low, shuddering moan as his fists clenched and hips jerked upwards into the contact, the slickness, the tight heat and slide that was far more pleasurable than with Starscream.

When Slats stilled with their arrays together and ground down slightly, a sharp sound, nearly a keen, escaped Prowl as he dug his fingers into the berth harder to keep from grabbing.

"You okay?" Slats asked with a chuckle. He leaned back and rocked his hips, field warming with pleasure. "Didn't seem like one to enjoy your back to me. Most of the officers wouldn't dare."

"I'm okay," Prowl insisted, his field wild enough to make it a questionable assertion. His optics clicked off as he sank fully into the sensations. Only two thrusts later his hands had a firm grip on Slats's hips and he began to push upwards in earnest.

Slats groaned and shrugged and decided to just relax and enjoy it. His valve squeezed in simple, standard rhythms to match the in-out, in-out of Prowl's basic thrusting. To Prowl, the lining of the valve didn't feel as complex as Starscream's had, but it was also slick and relaxed in pleasure instead of tight and spasming. He decided he definitely preferred the former in the moment before his frame arched to drive into his lover with all his strength as his overload flooded the slick tightness his spike was wrapped in. Slats gave a surprised shout and as his sensors were all overwhelmed at once with heat and expelled charge, and he bowed forward, hands on Prowl's chest. He rocked quickly, chasing an overload, impaling himself on the still-hard spike and striking the top of his valve with each push. 

It took him almost a klik, but then he shouted, and his valve contracted in overload spasms around Prowl. The Praxian groaned and shivered with pleasure as he rocked into the clenching, crackling slickness even as Slats stilled, vents panting and pumping out hot air.

"A valve can overload," Prowl's murmur was part surprise and part curiosity. Still, it was a distant second to what his spike wanted more of and as Slats's frame relaxed, Prowl shifted to the side and curled forward to put the eradicon on his back and began thrusting with lazy but focused intent.

Slats moaned, not resisting the shift in position. "Yes," he said. "Commander Starscream didn't?"

"No," Prowl answered as he enjoyed the slower build up.

"Valves can overload," Slats said, wrapping his arms around Prowl's neck. Prowl tried an experimental shift in position that made the eradicon gasp. "Just like spikes. Just as good."

"Makes this much more enjoyable," Prowl murmured, relaxing into the grip. He shifted to slide one arm under his lover to hold him against the gradually building power of his thrusts. "Your overload felt good."

"I'm glad, Prowl," Slats said with real honesty and pleasure in performing well for a superior. His valve was starting to shudder in different rhythms than before, pulsing in sequences that Prowl recognized as internal charge beats instead of the deliberate squeezing he'd felt before. Slats's visor dimmed a little and his helm relaxed back. "Very glad."


	4. Courting Prowl

"Oh, that is _too_ good," Frenzy snickered as he watched Prowl and the eradicon interfacing on the monitor. The twin cassettes had finally heard about the strange duo and come clamoring to Soundwave's security office to see for themselves. "Imagine if the Autobots could see _that!_ "

"I think they'd freak at his discipline more," Rumble snickered.

"Dumb Autonerds," Frenzy said, grinning, and then they both dissolved into snickers again. From Soundwave's lap, Ravage lifted her head and gave a low growl. 

"Ravage: calm," Soundwave murmured, stroking her back. She quieted immediately and tucked her head back in. Soundwave refocused on the screen that Rumble and Frenzy were having such a good time watching, sighing internally. He'd kept his feelings hidden well enough from his cassettes, except for Ravage and her uncanny knowledge of what he was thinking. Even when he was trying to ignore it himself.

It was now to the point where ignoring his desires could cost him what he desired when there was no need and no orders against it. Megatron had _offered_ him a reward. Perhaps not this, Soundwave had never asked for anything to one of the offers, but surely so long as Prowl's work did not suffer, Megatron would not object.

The personal price, however, that might be too high. Prowl was naive, innocent even in some ways, despite the preparatory files and over two metacycles of surviving Decepticon high command. It was an impressive feat, even with Megatron's protection.

Soundwave sighed. Would Prowl be ready for something like a relationship? And what would happen if the Autobots recovered him? Soundwave didn't even know if he'd be open to the idea, and had no idea how the Autobot SpecOps commander had gotten started with him. From all indications, Prowl was now more similar to how he'd been created than he'd even been as an Autobot, and Soundwave couldn't imagine the two together. To be honest, he was having a hard time correlating what he understood of the current Prowl, right down to carefully scanning his thoughts, and the mech on the screen that reflexively pulled his frag-buddy close to recharge.

Prowl's processors associated nothing of importance with the eradicon in his berth other than a compliant and good interface. A convenient solution to a frame that was far more interested in interfacing and tactile contact off duty than made any sense, even to the mecha experiencing it. It was a warning, Soundwave knew, that the frame remembered what it had had before and was actively seeking it again. It was also a relief that the processors in charge simply shrugged it off as a construction flaw that was easily controlled or indulged as the circumstances demanded.

He watched thoughtfully, and wondered how dangerous it was to want to be in the eradicon's place. Prowl was _like_ him. Prowl would understand him. They had similarly structured coding, designed to operate in middle-management and for the mecha assigned as their commander, no matter what that commander might want or order. 

Soundwave found Prowl's presence refreshing, and comforting. He wanted more of it. 

In the case of a successful courting, and if the small odds of a relationship won out, what would the spark remember?

What would happen if Prowl came face to face with Jazz again, without direct orders to cover the situation? Or even with orders. Prowl had proven he was capable of operating outside his normal limits. Just how far outside those limits could he go?

"Aww, how cute," Rumble cooed mockingly at the officer snuggled up with his berth toy.

"Hay, boss, does he always pick the same one?" Frenzy asked with mischief in mind.

"Affirmative," Soundwave said, then added as a precaution, "Rumble and Frenzy: are not to alter their circumstances or otherwise affect their lives."

"What?" the pair objected in stereo. "Why?"

"Reasons: are Soundwave's own," the host grumbled. He knew exactly how much they would be able to read into it, and let the information go willingly and purposefully.

The twins glanced at each other, took in Ravage's silent glare, and looked at each other again. 

"Right, boss," Rumble eventually said.

"So ... when are you gonna make a move?" Frenzy asked.

"Soundwave: will 'make a move' when Soundwave decides to make a move," Soundwave said succinctly. Ravage gave a purring snicker and the twins giggled despite their disappointment on details.

* * *

Prowl stood before Megatron, who looked down at him from his throne, drumming his fingers on the armrest. He'd just finished reviewing Prowl's latest report after summoning him, and now he was just looking at the Praxian, face marred in a frown. Soundwave stood at his right and behind. 

"Why is this taking so long?" Megatron asked finally.

"All is progressing as per the plan, my Lord," Prowl responded with calm professionalism despite his confusion.

"I had thought the Autobots would be defeated by now," Megatron said. "All I have gained is energy, which this planet is already rife with. Why cannot both goals be achieved at once?"

"My Lord, higher probabilities of victory require time to prepare for. It has only been four metacycles. The original plan outlined six metacycles. All revisions held to that timeline. It is progressing well."

"The Autobots are growing smug," Megatron said. "We appear weak. The plan needs to be accelerated."

"My Lord, that cannot be done without greater risk of losing more ground than we gain," Prowl repeated.

"Then figure out a way to make it happen," Megatron said, fists tightening. "Revise the plan."

"I have cut every viable orn already, my Lord," Prowl responded patiently but firmly. "To move any faster is to introduce an unacceptable failure rate that would set us back far more than two metacycles."

"I want Optimus Prime's spark!" Megatron roared, surging forward from his chair. "How dare you refuse me!" Before the words were even finished, he was looming over Prowl and throwing a hard punch at his helm. 

Everyone was used to this, though the target was typically Starscream. The blow typically hit. Cries of pain, more hits, pleas for mercy typically followed.

This was not typical in any way.

Prowl ducked and rotated out of the way. "You will have it if we follow my plan, my Lord," Prowl said with a completely calm voice and only lightly defensive posture.

"What--" Megatron snarled and whirled around, trying to strike him again. "Frag the plan! I want his spark!" 

"You will have his spark by following the plan, my Lord," Prowl repeated, calmly and firmly as he blocked the strike with a smooth movement that left the handful of mecha who recognized it in shock. An advanced Diffusion move, performed flawlessly by a mecha supposedly wiped clean only four metacycles ago and with no training in it. There wasn't anyone on board that even knew _how_ to train that movement.

Even more surprised was Soundwave, who could hear Prowl's mind and knew full well the _mech_ didn't know what he was doing. It was only his frame, trained hard until the moves were reflex, requiring no thought. The only part the processors played was to not interfere with the frame's reactions.

Megatron's furious shout filled the room. "Why aren't you obeying me?" he yelled, voice thundering. "You're supposed to obey me! _I am your Lord!_ " 

"Your orders are incompatible, my Lord," Prowl blocked the third punch, but the forth connected and sent him flying to dent the wall behind him.

"My orders are law!" Emboldened by the strike, Megatron charged forward and caught the Praxian while he was still off-balance, throwing him through the air. Prowl relaxed into the motion, aware he couldn't stop it, and remained still when he skidded to a stop. Despite the stillness and serious dents, there was no fear in Prowl's frame or mind. He knew he couldn't defeat the warlord, so he didn't try.

Megatron sensed victory and laid into him, throwing punches and kicking the limp but conscious frame around the room while everyone else watched in silence. Soundwave half expected Prowl to deactivate; he'd never seen anyone stop defending themselves against Megatron.

But then, amazingly, shockingly, Megatron seemed to grow bored with the lack of resistance and gave one more low growl in Prowl's direction before stalking away.

Badly damaged but fully conscious and coherent despite the pain, Prowl waited where he was until Megatron sat down again, then methodically got to his pedes and slowly, carefully, but steadily walked to the door. Soundwave could hear the open, repeated focus to keep his frame moving in those powerful processors, the fixation on reaching the medbay, but also, under the conscious level, a critically dangerous line of code was making itself at home in Prowl's core.

It wasn't anger, or desire for revenge. It was something Soundwave was long intimately aware of: disgust with his master. 

Unfit. Unstable. Irrational. A danger to the cause. A danger to **_ORDER_**.

It was, perhaps, the single way Prowl's compliance coding differed from Soundwave's. Prowl was designed to enforce the law, to keep peace and order in a city. Deep in there was a tiny line that allowed him to refuse orders that ran counter to that purpose.

There was no rebellion in Prowl, not yet, but Soundwave knew it would come just as it did in him. Only, perhaps, Prowl could eventually act on it.

He doubted it--he'd seen the compliance code for himself--but he could hope. "Lord Megatron," he murmured. "Permission to aid him to medbay?" 

Megatron snorted. "Why?" he growled. 

Soundwave dipped his helm. "Prowl: is an asset, should not appear weak in front of those lesser in command. Soundwave's presence: will help." 

Megatron rolled his optics but waved his TIC off. 

Soundwave hurried to catch up to Prowl as he vanished through the door and quickly had an arm around his back to help support his weight. He teeked the surprise, but also the acceptance from a trusted source. Yes, Prowl trusted Soundwave. "Prowl: did well," Soundwave said.

"Thank you," Prowl said quietly, most of his focus on moving as smoothly as he could and not displaying how damaged he was. Despite that, even Soundwave could see he'd gotten off light compared to what Starscream often looked like.

Together they made their way to medbay and found Hook already waiting, and they helped Prowl up onto a berth. Hook began looking over the damage and Soundwave stood at Prowl's side for a few kliks before gathering the courage to take one of the Praxian's hands in his. "Soundwave: wonders if Prowl would like to join him for refueling, when Prowl is repaired," the host said.

Even dazed with pain and distracted by the repairs going on to his frame, Prowl's surprise was easily teeked. He had to process it for a long moment, running the request through social protocols he wasn't fond of using until he reached an answer. "I would."

Soundwave brightened immediately. "Soundwave: is glad," he said, more tone to his voice than usual. "Soundwave: will arrange a time convenient to Prowl's schedule."

"Sounds good," Prowl's voice slurred slightly as power was diverted to pain management.

"Prowl: rest," Soundwave said and made himself comfortable next to the berth, staying out of Hook's way and using his field to bleed off some of the worst pain. It helped allow Prowl to drift into a self-induced light stasis, and Soundwave felt his spark brightening a little to be able to help.

* * *

With Rumble and Frenzy locked safely in his chest, Soundwave felt a little better about his meeting with Prowl. He trusted his twins to not embarrass him about as far as he could throw Megatron, and even though they would be witness, he could at least be assured that they would do nothing in the way of sabotage. Ravage and Laserbeak were on patrol about the Nemesis and Buzzsaw was spying on Autobots and humans alike.

He checked over everything again--two lounges on either side of a game table with some of his favorites stored in it, high grade and flavorings, Prowl's lounge designed to accommodate his doorwings--and tried to settle his spark and field. 

As a pre-prog, he'd never experienced being a mechling as interfacing and romantic subroutines began to come online for the first time, but he thought maybe it would be something like this. 

The door chimed. 

"Come," he invited, unlocking it. The door opened to a slightly nervous Prowl, and even at this distance Soundwave could easily feel it was from the same sensations he was experiencing. They had this in common, and it made them understand each other that much better in a world filled with kindled mecha, or those sparked with limited or shattered compliance coding.

"Thank you." Prowl's response as he took in the setup was genuine. He was always honest with Soundwave, just as he was direct with everyone. "Has there been any trouble since my beating?"

"None," Soundwave said. "Response: has been of bemusement towards your response. Not many: would have submitted to Lord Megatron in such a way." He gestured for the Praxian to sit, and wondered at himself and his own emotional response to looking at a face and frame that had been **_Enemy_** for so long. 

"Good." Prowl relaxed a fraction more as he sat down. "It was the only logical response once he had me. I cannot strike a superior officer. Submission was the choice the least likely to end in my deactivation once defensive maneuvers failed. Lord Megatron becomes bored easily when something does not resist."

"Prowl: is a fast learner," Soundwave said, fiddling with the flask of high grade before pouring both cubes. "Your intelligence: is an attractive feature." 

"I find your intelligence attractive as well," Prowl managed a small smile as he accepted one cube and the invitation to flavor it, though he didn't know what the various flavorings were like. He tasted tiny bits until he found one to his liking, a sweetness that appealed to him at the moment. "What do your cassettes thing of this?"

"My cassettes: range from amused to pleased to protective," Soundwave said, tone fond as he spoke of them. "Prowl: may expect teasing of Rumble and Frenzy. Ravage: is more affectionate. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw: more reserved and distrusting." 

"I am very pleased Ravage likes me," Prowl smiled a bit more with a tiny flutter of his doorwings. "Rumble and Frenzy tease everyone. I am accustomed to it, even if it is not appreciated."

"Soundwave: will speak to them," the host promised, though his voice spoke of how futile he expected it would be. He retracted his face mask with a hesitant smile to drink his energon, fully aware that this was the first time Prowl had seen his mouth, in either life. "Prowl: has never had flavorings before?"

"Negative," Prowl answered and didn't even try to hide his curiosity as he assessed Soundwave's appearance without the mask. "Why do you wear the face mask?"

"Current purpose: is to hide emotions," Soundwave said, tilting his head. "Emotions: can be deadly. Original design purpose: to make Soundwave appear less mech-like. Visors and masks: often used in conjunction on pre-progs for such a purpose, though not exclusively." 

Prowl nodded. "They have an intimidation value as well. Praxian Hunters and Special Operations mecha are often designed with them." He took a sip of the fine high grade and made a pleased sound at the smooth tingle of energy and sweet taste. "Do you wear a visor, or is it an optic band?"

"It is a visor," Soundwave said calmly after he took a sip of his own acidic drink, his speech relaxing a little as he did.

Prowl perked up at the shift and his doorwings wiggled a little in both surprise and excitement at being allowed into this part of Soundwave's world. Another sip slid over his glossa as he contemplated the situation, the fact that Soundwave likely knew his questions and answers before he voiced them but still allowed them to be voiced. He considered, too, just how comfortable he was with that truth. He felt nothing towards it. It was simply how things were and he didn't resent it.

"What do you wish of our relationship in the near future?" Prowl decided to be himself as well, and get right to the spark of the matter.

Soundwave glanced down into his cube. "Soundwave is ... I am ... attracted to you. We: have many similarities. I: would like to spend time with you, open to the idea of more. Expectations of Prowl: are none. Soundwave: is cautiously hopeful but also realistic. Desires: open mutual exploration." 

There. His spark was racing, but he was pretty sure he'd managed to say what he'd meant to. It wasn't nearly as organized as he would have liked, but it would have to do.

"I am agreeable to that," Prowl's answer was smooth and calm, and it was clear that he took little enjoyment from Soundwave's discomfort. "Perhaps a cultural standard from my intended function would be helpful. They created contracts for all social relationships, ones that were open to modification with little more than agreement between the parties involved. With so much unknown, it would give us a stable knowledge base and mutual understanding of desires and limits."

"Agreed," Soundwave said quickly with clear relief. "Such a contract: would be a comfort while providing stability. Prowl: has formats of said contracts?"

A nodded was followed by a comm ping with a small file attachment. When Soundwave opened it after a detailed antiviral scan, he found a well organized form, one blank, and one filled out with Prowl's basic information. It went into far more detail than Soundwave expected, particularly considering interfacing and public displays, but also included the question of whether Soundwave expected him to end things with the eradicon, where they would recharge and Prowl's status for commanding the cassettes.

"Soundwave: is impressed," the host said after he finished reading the multi-layered file. "Would Prowl: prefer to set a date and time to fill them out? It would: leave today open for relaxation and conversation. Soundwave would enjoy that."

"I would enjoy that at well," Prowl agreed readily as he relaxed out of business mode and settled with his energon and the comfortable lounge once more. "Does Soundwave have any questions for me?"

Soundwave thought for few moments. "Soundwave knows many details of Prowl," he admitted with a hint of chagrin. "The advantage seems unfair. I have wondered: why the eradicon?" he asked curiously.

"He is intelligent, dedicated, a leader among them," Prowl laid out what he found appealing. "They are a closed society, much like I understand the Enforcers were. It makes acquiring details and information about them difficult. They are also the masses. The ones who will destroy us if we fail to learn from those we overthrew. He provides access to them, their culture and their view of us. An eradicon, in general, is a safe choice as very few realize they are individuals and I am not simply grabbing the first convenient one to sate my frame's needs with."

Soundwave nodded in understanding. "Very logical reasons," he said with approval. "Your frame ... has been demanding?" he asked cautiously.

"Annoyingly so," Prowl huffed, though there wasn't that much strength behind it. "If I do not interface at least once an orn the desires begin to affect my performance. I only realized the cause of the building charge after the fight with Starscream when I overloaded and it cleared."

"Is that normal for your design?" Soundwave asked with a frown.

"Not according to the specs. I assume it is a construction flaw," Prowl answered with a mild shrug before relishing another sip of energon.

Soundwave hummed and nodded. More evidence that the previous personality to inhabit the frame lingered in some unforeseen ways. "Prowl: has any questions for Soundwave?" he asked.

"How did you become a Decepticon?" Prowl asked, genuinely curious.

"Early in the rebellion," Soundwave said. "I committed myself to Lord Megatron. His vision: was bright. I serve him still."

Surprise rippled through Prowl's frame. "You were free?"

Soundwave tilted his head, thinking. "I ... was recently bereft of a function," he said. "I directed my own loyalty in the direction I wanted."

"I am ... sorry?" Prowl wasn't sure how to react to that. "It sounds ... disturbing."

"It: was terrifying," Soundwave said. "A newer model: had been fashioned for the Kaon communications post. Soundwave: was outdated and dismissed. Soundwave: is sorry that Prowl never got to see the Cybertron he was created for, but realizes it is perhaps a blessing. Our society: had become rotten." 

"I will be there for a better society," Prowl reached out to touch Soundwave's hand in a reflexive offer of comfort. "One that your knowledge and experience will help direct so no others will suffer without a function."

Soundwave's visor flickered in a surprised cycle at the touch before he smiled slightly and nodded. "Prowl: will be the one to get us there." 

"I will," Prowl's determination increased. "No one's touched you as a friend in a long time," he said softly as he processed the surprise and gave Soundwave's hand a light squeeze before withdrawing to relax in his lounge. "What laws are you hoping to change once there is peace?"

"Soundwave: is concerned primarily with individual rights," the telepath said with a warm, pleased flush through his field. "Right of speech, right of ideas, right of property, right of mobility within society. Lord Megatron: has also fostered interest in rights of education and medical care."

Prowl nodded, liking those concepts. "Knowledge is power. Without rights to education there can be no right to social mobility. A right to work, to energon and medical care would all help ensure we do not create the very system we fought to destroy."

"Soundwave: agrees," Soundwave said. "Although Soundwave must acknowledge the irony of hoping to build a society in which he will be obsolete. In which Prowl would be obsolete."

Prowl quieted as he contemplated that and the future. "I do not believe many see us as pre-progs," he eventually said quietly. "They see dedication, loyalty, efficiency, logic and work-centric functions. Those traits will never be obsolete, even if why we personify them is."

Soundwave hummed in agreement before finishing his high grade and setting the empty cube aside. He looked at Prowl and heard the same thing in the Praxian's mind that was often in his, the knowledge that they would always be trapped by their code, even if no one else saw it. Just knowing that the other understood was a comfort and Soundwave reached out and squeezed Prowl's hand, before he leaned forward to carefully kiss the back.

Prowl's processors stuttered even as his spark flared at the move. It felt familiar, welcomed, and it brought a hot surge of arousal to the frame that the processors were still learning to simply accept. Prowl didn't understand why that touch created such a cascade, but after a moment he decided he rather liked it when it was in response to this mecha.

Just as carefully Prowl rotated his hand to cup Soundwave's cheek and gently caressed the soft living metal there with his thumb. He didn't know what to do or how to proceed, but it felt good to touch.

The host's visor was bright. "May Soundwave kiss Prowl?" he asked.

"Yes," Prowl's spark pulsed a little faster and he leaned forward into the soft, chaste touch of the other mech's lip plates. His hand stayed on Soundwave's face, and the host pressed one hand to Prowl's face as their mouths brushed together, soft and light and lingering. Prowl's frame was flush with heat and he almost chased the kiss when it ended.

Then Soundwave pulled back, a hint of a smile on his face. "Thank you," he said, well aware of the direction Prowl's thoughts and frame had taken.

"Thank you, for making my first kiss memorable," Prowl purred as he struggled to control his frame's desires.

"Soundwave is glad you thought it memorable," Soundwave said with a quiet chuckle as he poured himself a second cube of high grade. "Would Prowl: like to find his eradicon, or remain for further conversation?"

Prowl was genuinely torn for a moment. It would be _nice_ to indulge his frame, and he appreciated the tact permission to continue with Slats, but he was very much enjoying talking with Soundwave.

"I believe I will find him later," Prowl decided as he firmly stamped down his frame's reactions, much as he did at work. "Do you have any favorite games?"

"Many," Soundwave said, delighted that his company would be staying. He pulled up a list on the table, divided into categories, and moved the objects off the screen so Prowl could see. "What genre would you like?"

"Strategy," Prowl purred eagerly. "Campaign, Crossfire, Sovereign, Treck. Anything of that nature. Playing against a computer has been enjoyable. Playing against an actual intellect should be educational."

"Crossfire," Soundwave said, curious to see how Prowl's processors would judge and carry out that particular game. He was curious about all of them, but having played a very real version of Crossfire against the Autobot Prowl for millennia, it was particularly intriguing. He pulled up the game. "Offense or defense?"

"Defense," Prowl choice spoke deeply of his intended function to _defend_ rather than a purely intellectual choice of which was stronger.

"Very well," Soundwave said, pleased with the choice. One did not serve Lord Megatron for eons without learning some nuances of offense, and he dearly wanted to see how far he could get against the sentient tactical center. He cued up the game and made his first move. 

"What laws do you find less than conducive to a strong society?" Prowl asked as he settled into the game. Every line of mind and frame all but quivered with enjoyment at performing its intended function, and he still had the attention to spare for idle chatter.

"Many," Soundwave said wryly, but he smiled at Prowl as he began to list a few examples, before fully losing himself in the game and the chatting that Prowl kept up. He was grateful to know, without doubt, that while it was a serious topic for Prowl, this conversation was just for fun, because the Praxian enjoyed the subject. It made it much easier to answer honestly when he knew that Prowl wasn't trying to entrap him.

A highly enjoyable evening indeed, he decided. 

* * *

Two orns after their all-night game their schedules matched up again enough to meet for energon and the three joors Prowl anticipated the contract to take to sort out. Prowl arrived at Soundwave's quarters exactly when agreed upon, and felt a warmth flow through him at the thought of seeing the host so soon. It was nice to have a closer connection to the other mecha in the army that understood what he was.

Yes, there were other pre-progs, and of course there were others with variations of compliance coding, but their particular type of code was very specific and while it offered them more freedoms in some ways, offered fewer in less obvious ones. 

Soundwave looked up as he entered and his mask folded away to show a hint of a smile. "Prowl: welcome," he said, and rose to greet him, squeezing his hands. 

Prowl's field flared with pleasure and anticipation, joy in Soundwave's presence, as he drew Soundwave's hands up to kiss one softly. "Are we going to settle the contract tonight?"

"Soundwave: would like to," the host said with a flush through his field as he watched Prowl's mouth draw away from his hand. "Contract: will provide a stable focal point as we explore."

"Agreed," Prowl hummed as they settled at the small table in Soundwave's quarters that more commonly served for repairing cassettes. "Have you filled out your starting point?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said as he brought out the datapad he'd been working off of. "Soundwave: enjoys this methodology for relationships," he added with real delight as he handed it to Prowl. "A thorough contract: eliminates uncertainty and unmet expectations. Format: is clear and logical. Soundwave: is very glad to learn of this custom."

"It does make things much less stressful," Prowl agreed, very pleased that he'd contributed to the conversation and that Soundwave was not upset by anything in Prowl's default version. He accepted the datapad and began to read it. "Do the cassettes know everything you do?"

"Not by default," Soundwave said. "Soundwave: must allow information over. Frequently: they do, due to nothing needing to be kept private. In this instance: no. Soundwave kept his interest in Prowl concealed from them."

Prowl nodded thoughtfully as he continued to read. "How much sense do they have about spreading chatter about your interfacing?"

Soundwave frowned in thought. "Rumble and Frenzy: would be the most likely to chatter. However: I trust them not to. They do not engage in actions likely to change others' perception of me. Soundwave: will make clear to them not to." 

"It would be appreciated," Prowl said honestly as he set the contract down and settled in for the negotiations. "I saw you listed a preference for your spike. Do you have an aversion to your valve?"

"No," Soundwave said. "More correctly, not with a trusted partner."

"Understandable," Prowl said agreeably. "My reservations involve a lack of experience, currently. I expect to have an informed decision at some point."

Soundwave hummed with a nod. "Should we reach that point, Soundwave will be happy to help with such a decision."

"Good, since you are the only one I'm inclined to invite," Prowl tried to sound playful, but it only came across in his mind, rather than his voice. "I would like to have our dates be a cassette-free zone until further notice. I do not mind them docked, but coming and going or being about is a distraction for what is meant to be time for us."

"I agree," Soundwave said, and added that into the draft that he pulled up on the datapad Prowl had given him with his preliminary contract. There were two files now--Prowl's original, and a joint file that combined theirs. They each scanned for a few kliks in amiable silence. "Query: why does Prowl desire being covered in the way described?" 

"I have no idea," Prowl admitted, still a bit uneasy that interfacing contained so many things he had no reasons for. "It quickly makes me hot to think of. I anticipate I would enjoy it a great deal if it actually happened."

"Understood," Soundwave hummed. "Perhaps we will discover more, should we prove compatible. Does Prowl: have any indulgences? Ways that Soundwave may treat him." 

Prowl cycled his optics and tried to phase that in a way he could follow, and simply couldn't.

"Prowl: does not need to answer if he does not have an answer yet," Soundwave soothed him. "Understanding of desires and what brings pleasure takes time and experience to develop. I ... was many centuries old before I understood how much _silence_ meant to me."

"Silence?" Prowl cocked his helm. "It's that difficult not to listen to those around you?"

"Negative, however true relaxation comes when I do not need to try, and can hear nothing but myself," Soundwave said. "Or: someone I care about. Music, is a particular indulgence as well." 

"Like the cassettes, and hopefully one orn, myself," Prowl suggested more than asked.

"Yes. Soundwave: finds your thoughts to be smooth and easy to relax around." Soundwave resisted touching Prowl at the flush of pleasure in the Praxian. "Has Prowl listened to music?"

"Technically," Prowl said a bit warily. "They call it music at least."

"Understood," Soundwave chuckled a bit. "Rabble has terrible acoustic taste. Soundwave: would introduce you to what he considers music."

"I'd like that," Prowl purred softly. "Is relaxing related to your rather specific kink?" He gestured to Soundwave's contract. "Of having your senses blocked and turned off, even your telepathy."

Soundwave stilled as he thought about it. In the section that asked for interfacing kinks, he'd listed the only thing he could think of: being immobilized, visual and audial senses disabled and put in control of a lover. He had to limit his telepathy on his own, but it was easy. "Being immobilized ... can be relaxing, and relieving. Choice is taken away and given to another, by my wishes, not others. It is rare, and unique." 

Prowl nodded, his doorwings twitching in a basic understanding. As young as he was, he already understood the relief that could come with having no expectations of him, even if only for a few moments. "What do you like to happen when you are like that?"

Soundwave shivered. "I derive the same enjoyment from being left like that for joors, to interfacing, to being forced to overload. Pleasing my lover, being pleased. The thrill is the loss of control."

"I will keep that in mind if we reach that stage," Prowl promised, even as it was clear in his mind that he was hoping they did. "I'm sure you realize that I find your telepathy something of a relief. I never wish to assume it will sort an issue out, but that you can know what I'm thinking is a reassuring thought."

"Soundwave is glad you find it comforting," the host said with a curious flicker in his field. "Many find it alarming. Why don't you?"

Prowl considered the question, thinking on a subject he'd never questioned but now studied from multiple angles, including several that would never apply to him.

"I trust you, I want you to understand, thus the sharing of my thoughts with you is not something to fear. It is those with secrets, or those who believe they have secrets, that likely find it alarming. I have little desire or need to hide from you, so it only enhances our ability to effectively communicate," Prowl did his best to answer.

"I understand," Soundwave said warmly. He brushed back how important communication, _clear_ communication, was to him, and how much he appreciated that Prowl sought the same. Prowl's reply was pleasure-warmth that they agreed.

If knowledge was power, communication was control, and to both of them, control meant safety.

It was a joy to be with one that understood that without fearing it.

Prowl regarded the contract that had so quickly taken form. "Why do you wish to delay interfacing?"

"I do not wish to delay it," Soundwave said. "I wish to wait until it feels right. I wish to know my lovers." 

"You are a telepath," Prowl pointed out, not hiding his curiosity. 

"Telepathy: does not help one to know a mecha's quirks," Soundwave tried to explain. "The way they move and speak and touch. I do not enjoy interfacing until I know those. Until I _know_ a mecha. Until..." He tilted his head in thought. "Until desire overwhelms."

Prowl purred at the idea of desire overwhelming. "I understand. I simply have far less resistance to desire."

Soundwave hummed with good humor. "For Soundwave: desire must grow from interest. There is interest, Prowl," he added, murmuring the words. "I require time and familiarity."

"I look forward to when you have enough of it," Prowl's words were honest, both in that he desired Soundwave's attention, and that he desired Soundwave to be ready. "Have you given oral pleasure before?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said with a hint of amusement. "The drones do not have oral cavities, correct?"

"Correct. But Slats knows that it feels very good," Prowl nodded, his processors deviating towards interfacing once more, much to his annoyance. "Contract. Let's focus on the contract."

"Agreed," Soundwave said. "Prowl: has any disagreements with Soundwave's preliminary terms?"

"No," Prowl shook his helm. "Do you know if you enjoy snuggling?"

"Snuggling?" Soundwave repeated with some surprise. "Soundwave assumes so." He tilted his helm in thought. "Yes, he believes so."

"May we snuggle while we talk more, and perhaps play another round of Crossfire when the contracts are finished?" Prowl suggested a bit shyly.

"He-- _I_ would like that," Soundwave murmured with a flush through his field.

"Your berth?" Prowl suggested a bit hopefully. "Unless you have a bigger lounge." 

"Negative," Soundwave said. "Berth: will suffice." He stood and led Prowl with him into his berthroom, and the simple berth that was really only large enough for one, but would fit two.

Prowl spotted several smaller arrangements around the room that he guessed were for cassettes, including a sort of nest that hung from the ceiling. He paused to allow Soundwave to settle, then knelt on the berth to take the light touch of direction until he was relaxed against Soundwave's chest and a soft purr rumbled up from his engine. It felt good, being close, touching, fields overlapping, and Prowl considered himself content to be here for some time.

Soundwave wrapped an arm around him and they each pulled up the next blank section of the contract, regarding finances, and began to work.

* * *

Skywarp, Scrapper, Hook, and Long Haul appeared with a faint _pop_ , the three grounders looking around at the crew gathering. Skywarp disappeared again to bring over the last of those invited, and Scrapper went right for Mixmaster and the high grade. 

"Where the frag are we?" Hook asked, peering at the deserted landscape, a rarity on a planet with over fifteen billion humans. The yellow sand, dunes taller than a mecha and high heat clued him in that it was likely the Sierra, though it might also be somewhere in the Middle East.

"Who cares?" Starscream asked with a shrug from where he was lounging. "As long as Prowl isn't here. Get some high grade and get 'charged, it's a celebration."

Skywarp reappeared with Scavenger and Thundercracker, grinning. "Mixmaster, my mech! How about some brew for a thirsty teleporter?"

The chemist willingly handed over a cube, well aware that Skywarp wasn't a mech to deny high grade to even if he was inclined to deny anyone, which he wasn't. Not with enough energon in the stores to power all of Cybertron. Starscream would glitch your audials, but a pissed off teleporter with Skywarp's sense of humor would land you slagged and Primus only knew where.

Everyone was served and Mixmaster double-checked that there were plenty of cubes out before grabbing two to join his gestalt-mates.

Across the gathering, Skywarp and Thundercracker were joining their leader. "If Prowl finds us out here, the next trip is going to be on an asteroid," Skywarp grumbled before cheerfully downing half his cube.

"That's _why_ we're _out here,_ " Starscream sneered at him, cuffing him around the helm. "Primus what a slagging buzzkill."

"At least we have plenty of fuel now," Mixmaster rumbled. 

"And Megatron seems to think we'll have our victory before long," Hook added. 

"That or one gray Prowl," somebody snickered.

"Soundwave wouldn't allow it," Thundercracker countered with a glance at the speaker. "They're two of a kind, and together too."

"Yeah hey can we talk about that?" Scavenger spoke up, already through his third cube of high grade. "And how slaggin' _weird_ it is?"

"Their fraggin' must be the worst," Scrapper snickered. "Can you even imagine!" He flattened his tone out into his best mimic of Soundwave. "Prowl: yes. Prowl: good. Prowl: oh. Maximum pleasure: achieved. Soundwave: overloads." 

Overcharged laughter answered him.

"And it hasn't loosened either one of them up in the least," Mixmaster huffed.

"Have to wonder why they bother, given Prowl still grabs an eradicon every few orns," Skywarp snickered.

Not just _an_ eradicon," Thundercracker said. "The _same_ eradicon. Every single time. If I were Soundwave I'd be pretty fragged off."

"If _you_ were Soundwave you'd be a heckuva lot cuter," Skywarp purred, climbing into Thundercracker's lap and nuzzling him until he was unceremoniously dumped off.

"I _so_ didn't need to hear that," somebody cringed. "Soundwave. Cute. Never were two glyphs less likely to be put together."

"Not Soundwave," Skywarp giggled drunkenly from where he was flopped on the ground. " _TC!_ If Soundwave was TC he'd be cuter!" 

"You are such a lightweight," Starscream said, and then his tanks gave a charged-up hiccup and he slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, but I can burn it off faster, and drink more!" Skywarp giggled before making a series of jumps.

"Why did we _ever_ pick him?" Thundercracker groaned.

"Because he's good in combat," Starscream shrugged as he downed the last of his cube. "And he's too stupid to be after my rank."

Thundercracker huffed but settled when Skywarp's trip finished at the pile of high grade, where he grabbed four cubes and warped to his trinemates.

"You really think Prowl and Soundwave are 'facing?" Skywarp asked, reasonably somber for the moment.

"They're always locked up away in Soundwave's quarters," Mixmaster rumbled. "What _else_ would they be doing?" 

"But it's _so weird,_ " Scrapper said, voice hushed. "I mean--why would anyone frag an _Autobot?_ "

" _That_ is no Autobot," Runamuck said firmly.

"No kidding," Runabout backed his white twin up. "Have you _seen_ what he does when you cross him?"

"He _reformatted_ Octane!" Runamuck picked up. "He knows how to use a whip better than Megatron, and uses it more than Megatron uses his fists. Not even the psycho Autobots do that."

"Jazz has," Starscream shrugged. "What, he has," he scowled as he looked around the disbelief around him. "Head of SpecOps. Mech is _scary_ like nothing else. Rather face bucket-head than Jazz, or his black twin."

"Okay, _that_ one is scary, I'll give y' that," Skywarp slurred. 

"I just couldn't do it," Scrapper said firmly. "No matter if he was wiped clean or not. Just too gross, couldn't stop thinkin' about it. And anyway yeah he prob'ly frags like a drone." 

"And Soundwave probably likes it," Hook said with a shrug. "And this way, he's always got a beat on whether any memories are surfacing."

"Now _that_ sounds like a reason for Soundwave to do'm," Hook chuckled. "Just another job."

"To Soundwave," Thundercracker said, lifting his cube with a smirk. "Always doing the right thing."

"To Soundwave!" the rest echoed, and their drunken laughter filled the night.

* * *

Prowl felt the warmth of his lover-to-be against his chest and against his side where the larger mech's arm was draped over him. It felt good, it was wonderfully warm, but he knew that he'd ruin it soon as he always did. He couldn't be this close off duty and not eventually succumb to desire. Thankfully, Soundwave always knew when that moment arrived in order to let him go, but lately, Prowl had felt the host hesitating. He let him go, in the end, always, but the grip was getting tighter. Prowl _wanted_ him, wanted the mech who understood him so well. 

The lips that pressed against his was warm, and Soundwave's glossa slipped into his mouth. That was distraction enough for a while, until Prowl's fans were running fast and his core temperature was high enough that it caused zings of pleasure to dance across his circuits. He barely realized what he was doing until he felt the intense heat behind the armor panel under his fingers, and he froze, ready to be told to stop.

" _Please,_ " Soundwave whispered, and covered Prowl's hand with his own. 

Trembling with need, desire and _want_ , Prowl scraped his fingers against the hot spike cover as best he could with the larger blue hand over his. "Pleasure, interface, tonight?" he managed to gasp out.

"Need it," Soundwave gasped back as the cover snapped away. His entire frame shuddered when Prowl's fingers touched the bared housing. Prowl heard another transformation sequence from above and he looked up and found himself staring into shining red optics. 

Ice blue optics widened and brightened at the trust he knew to his core was explicit in the fully exposed face.

Prowl reached for another kiss, his optics locked on Soundwave's as his fingers circled and stroked the spike housing to draw his lover's spike out. There was a shiver of anticipation, the fear of the unknown, at what he intended to do now that he had permission.

When the kiss broke, Prowl scooted down the berth, curling in on himself to fit as he placed his lip plates against the exposed tip. Soundwave cried out and Prowl felt hands on top of his helm, pushing him down. Fingers curled around his chevron and the spike spiraled out, rotating as it extended. Prowl felt texture that ran the entire length and looked to see two sculpted pieces that curled around each other. He licked the length and coaxed more out, and the coil pattern split into a braid that ran to the base. 

"Beautiful," Prowl whispered as he took in the far more complicated spike than his own. It was larger too, but not so much larger than he had concerns about it fitting. A shiver passed down Prowl's frame at the thought of having his lover inside him, sliding in and out. He'd been against Slats when the eradicon overloaded often enough to know it could be very good.

With all his focus on orienting and controlling his frame to make this work with no experience, Prowl set his lips at the tip and slowly lowered his helm and took the sensitive length into his oral cavity. It was more difficult to convince his intake to accept the large object, but he managed after a few tries.

"Ah--" Soundwave's gasp was of encouragement and pleasure, and Prowl could teek that it felt good, no matter how new his technique was. Soundwave's hips moved up and down in small, rhythmic pulses that Prowl attempted to match in an opposing rhythm. Despite the enjoyment at causing such pleasure, Prowl lifted his helm to slide off the spike and met Soundwave's optics when they finally focused again.

"Cover me?" Prowl trilled as he lifted his helm and sat upright, valve cover sliding back. The image of what he wanted was vivid in his mind and he hoped Soundwave would enjoy it too.

Yes, pulsed through Soundwave's field and into Prowl's mind as the telepath moved up and forward, first taking a heated kiss, hand against Prowl's face as their glossae met and swirled together. As they kissed, Soundwave's hand slipped down between Prowl's legs to brush over the external features, soft, layered platelets that circled and covered the valve opening. When Soundwave pressed a finger inside, they folded away under the light pressure, gripping and shivering. Already slick.

A shiver ran up Prowl's entire frame and he almost mewed in need against Soundwave's mouth. The sensation of penetration, even so lightly, was new but pleasurable and wanted so very much. Prowl knew that Soundwave could feel just how much. 

And the host still moved slowly. His spike rubbed up against Prowl's hip, hard, grinding, as Soundwave carefully explored his mouth and his valve with soft swipes of glossa and fingers--when had the second slipped inside?--and Prowl could barely think. 

And then Soundwave shifted to the side and light pressure on Prowl's shoulders sent him forward to his hands and knees, aft in the air, and he felt Soundwave behind him. He knew he had to be glistening by now, and the heavy _ache_ to be filled was becoming almost painful. 

He felt warmth--not a spike, not big enough--and then the fingers again, to the sound of soft, pleasured humming. It vibrated into his platelets. Warm, wet--Soundwave's glossa was pressed against him, fingers inside, and Prowl keened at the pleasure the contact caused. His valve rippled and squeezed around the fingers as he began to tremble from the humming and swirling glossa.

He could feel Soundwave's enjoyment, through more than just his field. The sensation was in his mind, how much his new lover was able to teek and feel and how he would easily enjoy just _this_ \--but Prowl wanted more. 

_Please_ \--

Whether it had been out loud or not, Soundwave answered with one more lick and a crook of his fingers before he moved up, and forward, on top of Prowl and then inside him. Stretched lining and the sensation of being full drew a groan of relief and pleasure, but what deepened the sound was the sensation of the larger frame over him, muting the information from his doorwings about the room but dramatically improving what he received from his lover. Prowl could feel every twist and thickening of the spike as it pressed into him, and the same as it retreated. Every little moment sent a crackling surge of pleasure through him and Prowl knew he wouldn't last long.

Soundwave's vocalizations were soft, not full glyphs but easy to decipher as he rocked slowly, panting against him. An arm wrapped around Prowl's middle for stability, the other one was holding one of his shoulders, and each x-vent from the host was a soft moan. Prowl could see and hear himself at the same time, images pushed over from Soundwave, and ones that echoed back with his own perspective as they moved together.

It was a truly strange sensation, being that integrated, but it felt good, it felt like being cared for, and Prowl relished it for the few moments he could remain aware of it. He tried to hold back, to draw out the pleasure and the sensation of unity, but his frame had limits that were not going to be ignored. With a hiccupping moan Prowl lost control and his frame seized up with the surge of charge rushing through him from Soundwave's last deep thrust.

Then Soundwave's overload pounded through him and he felt the host's desire for this moment to be unified, and knew the tipping point had been his mind instead of his valve. Either way, he felt the spike _move_ and writhe inside him, spreading him as bursts of transfluid hit his deepest sensors. Soundwave's cry was in his mind; the host's vocalizer was silent.

It was exquisite in a way no spike overload had been and Prowl knew it was the mech he was with rather than the action that caused it. The physical overload was intense and much needed, but as they slumped down with its fading, Prowl knew he was spoiled for anything less than this now. He'd keep up with Slats because it was important to his plans, rather than because it was important to his frame, or to him.

That thought was touched, examined, and accepted as Soundwave pulled out and shifted off and to the side to stretch next to him. Fingers carefully turned his helm around so he was looking at the host. 

"I like you," Soundwave said. 

Prowl smiled softly and met the gaze, his mind open to the host without reservation. "I like you a great deal," he purred and leaned forward for a kiss that was soft and caste. "I'm pleased we have this now."

Unspoken but prominent was Prowl's keen awareness that the battle for Earth was coming soon and there was a not-insignificant probability that at least one of them would not make it back from the battlefield.

Soundwave frowned at him. "Such thoughts: do not make for happy cuddling," he grumbled. 

"Sorry," Prowl dropped his gaze as he pushed the thought away and marked its precursors for deletion while they were together. That settled, Prowl pressed close to his lover and nuzzled him. "This is a time for good thoughts."

Soundwave's frown didn't go away, and he reached in to tease the thought back into place. His efforts met little resistance. "Soundwave: does not mean for Prowl to alter his thoughts," he murmured apologetically. "Soundwave: is aware of the reality of the situation. It should be taken seriously. He just does not wish to face it yet. Prowl: should never feel obligated to think anything other than what he wishes with me."

There was a flicker of confusion, then understanding that came with warmth for the host. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to spend any more time focused on what I cannot change than I need to. The thought will return when I go back to work and it serves a purpose."

Soundwave nodded and touched their helms together. Prowl felt a rush of affection, wonder--surprise?--protectiveness, the promise that Soundwave would be a confidant whenever Prowl needed. "Thank you," the host murmured.


	5. Striking

"In conclusion," Prowl said as he gestured up at the projection of Earth's political territories, "The atmosphere on this planet will be primed for takeover and extinction in two and a half decaorns, if all models play out to the most likely scenarios. The chances are well in our favor, and that is when we will strike the Autobots. This will be a global effort, one that involves all our troops, and you will each have a unit to command. Officers will be responsible for communication between units and base. I will be engaged with my own unit, as well as coordinating the global effort." He faced the gathered officers, made optic contact with every single one of them. "This is our very best chance. We are ready." 

There were nods and murmurs of consent around the table when it was clear that Megatron agreed.

"My Lord," Prowl inclined his helm to Megatron, handing the meeting back to the big mech.

"Dismissed," Megatron sent them all on their way, and not even Starscream saw fit to snark about it. There was entirely too much excitement and anticipation. They'd seen Prowl's work from the other side for most of the war, and seen how effective he was in disciplining their own. Hope was higher than it had been since Optimus Prime had arisen.

Megatron smiled at Prowl. "You have surpassed my every expectation," he said.

"Thank you, my Lord," Prowl inclined his helm in genuine appreciation for the complement. "I exist to serve the empire."

Megatron nodded. "So tell me. What could not be said in front of my officers?"

"The plans for various special operations, my Lord. Such things should not be general knowledge before they happen," Prowl said as he brought up the file. "The Seekers will first spread the bacterial and viral loads into the atmosphere to decimate organic populations. While that is of secondary concern, the planet-wide epidemic and disasters will divide and separate the Autobots and their allies into small groups and focus them away from us as we move into position."

Megatron nodded. "Combine that with their wars, and any survivors will be a meaningless force. What of their weapons of mass destruction? They are still capable of harming us if they control a large number once we start to plunder their planet."

"Yes, my Lord. Very few of those weapons are still viable thanks to small operations over the metacycles. The humans believe them operative, but they are not," Prowl explained. "Also, once the Autobots are dealt with and all Decepticons returned to base, the final stage of cleaning the organics from this world will commence. Within a decaorn there will not be anything organic left. Well before that what few remaining humans there are will be far too focused on surviving than planning trouble for us."

"Good," Megatron rumbled. "What else?"

Prowl brought up another outline. "Other preparations have included missions to their off-planet facilities to sabotage or scan them for the quickest way to make them non viable for human survival. Those strikes will fall heavily on the Seekers, though Mars and Luna can be handled by ground forces transported there by the triple changers. Who will go will depend on which battles on Terra are finished first."

"Are any of those stations on resource-rich lands?" Megatron asked curiously. "Or is it a preventative measure against the humans?"

"All of the planetary stations are on resource rich worlds. The space stations are not. Though all strikes are primarily preventative measures against the humans. They have a well-established history of being a very difficult to control without complete extermination. They also reproduce very quickly. A small population can breed and train a formidable force in half a vorn," Prowl explained.

"So I have seen," Megatron said, nodding as Prowl flipped through images showing possible population growth and some of the targets. "I approve. I look forward to our victory, Prowl," he rumbled with excitement. "We will restore our home."

"Yes, my Lord," Prowl's doorwings and field flared with eager anticipation and deep appreciation for the trust. "We will reap all we can from this system, then restore Cybertron to brilliant glory. All will be in place for the strike and the Prime will finally be no more."

"Remember--" Megatron rumbled. 

"The Prime is for you, Lord Megatron," Prowl said, bowing his head. "This I have never forgotten." 

"Yes," Megatron purred. "The Prime is mine."

* * *

Soundwave stood in front of the massive control screen that represented every sentient life on the planet Earth, routing calls, prioritizing, updating, ordering, transmitting, and otherwise controlling the communications required for the massive undertaking that was the full scale takedown of the Autobots and humanity. He knew, by logic, Prowl should be at his side, but the Praxian had to prove himself in battle, so he was with the main force attacking Autobot City with Megatron and the Constructicons.

After metacycles of strict disciplining by Prowl, every Decepticon was moving as ordered. It was a pleasant change. Though he'd never tell Megatron unless directly asked, Soundwave knew the forces feared Prowl more than they did their Lord. Megatron could be erratic and violent, but Prowl knew no mercy.

Through his link to Buzzsaw, Soundwave could see that that translated equally well to the battlefield. Autobots were falling in the city, and all around the globe. Humanity was in a state of panic as engineered viruses swept through their populations, and everything was going according to plan. 

Soundwave received a signal that a stasis bomb had been detonated and checked the source. Dirge had released it and it had struck one of the Autobots' main concentrations, crippling their hold on one of the last fronts. Those fallen were already being taken prisoner, and Hook was reporting exemplary turnaround with his t-cog removal and virus uploads on their new work force. 

One designation was most pleasing and frustrating for the host.

_Jazz._

Jazz. The one mecha who Prowl's spark knew well enough to respond to, even if the processors wouldn't understand. A mecha gifted at acting, improvisation and subterfuge.

The singular being that Soundwave wanted deactivated more than any other, for Jazz was a threat to his Prowl.

Yet orders were orders. Jazz was a prisoner and no prisoner could be deactivated or crippled in a way that prevented them from working effectively. Nothing could be done but to try to keep the two from encountering each other.

With a mental shake Soundwave focused fully on his duties once more. Autobot City would be the hardest to take down. Megatron had just engaged the Prime in combat, and it was a key battle for the morale of the Autobots. Megatron had been training, while the Prime had been focusing on building a new city and trying to set up diplomatic lines of communication across an alien planet. Megatron was strong, the Prime was unprepared. 

Prowl, as much as Soundwave had had his reservations about letting the Praxian go into the field, looked just as strong. The Prime should have used him better from the start. The war could have been over long ago if any of the Autobot Prowl's more extreme contingency plans had been executed. 

And now it was too late for the Autobots, the Prime, and Earth. Cybertron would be reborn. They would fix the broken systems, scrub the Prime from the world, and offer up the free and equal life they had been promised but never received during the Golden Age. 

If Megatron could focus on others, and not his own power. 

The real weakness, Soundwave had long been forced to acknowledge, was Megatron himself. Prowl had already integrated that knowledge into his plans, even before he grasped the full extent of it. Quiet, invisible to all but one of their kind, were tiny bits here and there to counter the worst of it, to reign in the worst of Megatron's flaws without alerting their Lord of it.

Prowl, even inexperienced, was brilliant beyond his processors and upgrades. Soundwave was sure of it. He was _special_ in the same way the best scientists were. Intelligent, able to see vast, complex webs of information as they intersected and make intuitive leaps that were logic in its purest form.

It left Soundwave enthralled to the full extent his coding allowed and he wondered, not for the first time, how the war would have played out if Prowl had been theirs from the beginning, or if Soundwave had locked on the powerful tactician instead of Megatron. Together, they could have easily controlled the young Prime much as they guided their Lord.

Metroplex collapsed.

It happened so fast even Soundwave was startled and he reviewed his feeds to ensure his thoughts had not missed an assault.

No, he had not missed anything. The small metrotitan had simply dropped.

Soundwave filtered through all the incoming communications and updates, and realized that one of the very lowest-probability plans had actually been successfully executed. It had been unknown whether a stasis bomb would be powerful enough to affect a metrotitan, and they had so few of them, that Prowl had ordered only one to be used for Metroplex. Only to be detonated once inside the processor-casing, the eradicon had apparently been successful. 

The battle turned quickly, and when Megatron rose up with the Prime's dripping spark chamber clenched in his fist, roaring with victory, Soundwave knew there was no possibility of failure. Some Autobots surrendered, but most continued to fight until either gray or unable to move.

It was over.

The war that had consumed so much of his functioning was over.

Soundwave ... if Megatron permitted, Soundwave could return to his original function, or at least a variant of it.

The emotional rush lasted until he noticed Prowl's doorwings jerk upwards in sudden distress.

::Skywarp,:: he commed immediately, seeing a break in Skywarp's assignments. ::Soundwave: to Prowl.:: 

The purple and black Seeker popped up right next to him and Soundwave didn't have chance for any more explanation than that before he was standing next to Prowl in the sunlight, and the seeker vanished again. 

Soundwave took Prowl's helm in his hands and immediately saw the problem. He could _feel_ the problem, crackling just under the plating. That tac-net that made Prowl so valuable drew a lot of energy when it ran. In battle, it was drawing all it could, and with the battle over so quickly and suddenly, it had dropped back to its default draw before Prowl's power management systems could prep for it.

The mech was so close to an overload it was hard for him to focus, but Soundwave had his attention now and the frame's need was screaming in Prowl's mind, threatening to overwhelm even Soundwave. The telepath pressed their helms together and quickly plugged in, sending over a hard pulse as he wrapped his fingers around the extending spike and began to move up and down its length in firm, even strokes. With relief promised Prowl's desperation subsided into a focus on the pleasure surging through him with a moan and core-deep gratitude.

It took little more for Prowl's frame to stiffen with the hard crackle of a much-needed overload, transfluid pumped out of the spike. Soundwave had just enough warning to shift to the side and drop his hand to squeeze and rub the base instead of the full shaft to avoid the spray. He didn't stop stroking until it ended and Prowl slumped against him in a soft reboot. Soundwave pushed warmth and _victory_ into his mind as he came back to awareness.

Pleasure, joy, relief and then relief at his frame's stable charge washed back before much sense of self happened, and before Prowl reached that stage an impressively savage set of viral and anti-hacking protocols surged to activation when the system scan turned up Soundwave's hardline. It was nothing the host couldn't handle, but with no need to maintain that particular connection he pulled back and unplugged. All done before Prowl could support himself.

"Thank you, Soundwave," Prowl's voice was low, even and warm. "I did not anticipate that particular response to the battle's end."

"Thankfully: the solution was simple," Soundwave said, voice flat but with the faintest hint of amusement through his field. "Decepticons: are victorious. Lord Megatron: wishes to gather the troops."

"Then we should join him. We have much to celebrate and the resources to do so," Prowl purred deeply as the pair turned to make their way to their leader. "Has Hook the supplies needed to chain the metrotitan before it can boot?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said. "Skywarp: has taken him to the site. Autobot prisoners: are being efficiently processed." They came up over a hill and could suddenly see Megatron in the middle of the battlefield, raising a spark casing above his helm in one hand, holding the Matrix of Leadership in the other. All around him mecha were materializing as Skywarp brought them back from all over the planet to regroup.

It gave Prowl a thrill to see his plans come to fruition so effectively. The deaths, even of the enemy, were something he regretted and would morn softly, but it was the price one paid for a functional society and peace.

* * *

The Great War was over. The war that had spanned galaxies and time, ravaged their planet, and taken them further from home than they'd ever thought they would go. The defeated and conquered Autobots had all been tracer tagged, altered into monoformers, and were required to wear both pain and stasis collars that could be activated by any nearby Decepticon. Their vocalizers had been disabled but not removed and could be similarly activated; all the codes would transmit automatically to anyone Decepticon who pinged. 

The first thing Megatron did with them, once they were all repaired and tagged, was bring them in one by one to look upon the frame that had been Optimus Prime, his chest torn apart, spark casing cracked in two in the gaping hole, and the crumpled Matrix near his helm. He didn't want any of them to be getting any ideas. 

Soundwave monitored these sessions, delving without restraint into the thoughts of those who crossed through. Occasionally, he would nod to the eradicon guards to have that prisoner taken aside to be examined more closely by either himself or Shockwave with a neural link. 

When Jazz came through, Soundwave immediately inclined his helm. _He is for me,_ he sent to the guard.

There was no challenge, no surprise to the order. The only surprise where Jazz was concerned among the troops was that he still functioned. Not many would have allowed a lover's former mate to stand if they'd been in Soundwave's place. But if they had been in Soundwave's place, they would have also realized that Soundwave had no choice. His master's orders were clear. No Autobot who survived the battle was to deactivate unless in self defense. Jazz had survived, so Soundwave could no longer touch him.

The black and white mech was led into a small interrogation room, and he didn't fight being strapped down. For most, it was the look of defeat, but Soundwave had had this mecha in this position with this behavior before and knew that Jazz showed the truth in his frame only slightly more often than Soundwave himself did.

He locked the door after the guard left and activated Jazz's vocalizer, pressing into the other's mind, searching for any hint of rebellion, any plot to take Prowl away. The saboteur was as difficult to read as always, his processors a jumble of thoughts that went in such erratic patterns and cross-linking lines that it was a noticeable effort to follow one from beginning to end.

All the expected ones were there. Anger, grief, emotional pain, surprise at still functioning, surprise at being repaired so well. Buried further down was blame Jazz took on himself for failing to retrieve Prowl's frame or deactivate it, and when Soundwave followed those links deeper he got the first real reaction out of the Autobot SIC. A hiss and deep growl of his engine, along with the mental landscape changing.

"Ah play the game, play ta win, ya gotta beat me at my own game ta get those answers," Jazz sing-songed to him. "Ya won the war, but ya not won me."

"Soundwave: has no need to win Jazz," the host deadpanned. His field turned dark and he pressed all his telepathic power forward into a needle-sharp focus. "The war: won. The Decepticons: victorious. Soundwave: only has one thing to say to Jazz."

"Then spit it out," Jazz gave a shrug more mental than physical. "Ya won my bonded, wiped out the mecha ah loved. Ah know what ya did. Ah know what happened." With the words, he couldn't quite keep hold of the grief that still hadn't settled. He wasn't done mourning the loss of his mate. That would take centuries yet.

"Good," Soundwave said. "Because Autobot Prowl: is dead. Jazz: will do well to remember it. The matter: was never personal." 

"It wasn't," Jazz agreed, the optics behind his band narrowing. "Right up until ya started ta _care_ about'm. Tell me, did it start with orders, did he come to you, or did ya go to him?"

"Soundwave: did not care about Autobot Prowl," the host said firmly, not answering the question. "Autobot Prowl and Prowl: separate entities."

"Yeah ah know. Same frame though. A frame that has plenty'a quirks ah know about," Jazz teased. "Like how ta indulge him. How ta make him howl in a whiteout. How ta get'm to look up from work without getting pissy."

"Jazz: will remember his place," the host said with a shrug. "Or: he will remember nothing. Threats and taunts: ineffective." 

"Was an offer of advice, Sounders," Jazz shrugged. "Kinda hard ta forget my place with all the mods installed." Even as he said it, the threat of being wiped was noted and examined both for good and ill effects.

Soundwave sent one more dark, threatening pulse into Jazz's mind before he left.


	6. Legal Bonding

It had been nine full vorns since the Autobots had been defeated and Cybertron had been found, the energon and resources it needed in the hull of the massive transport Prowl had insisted be designed and built to move the rewards of the entire system Terra had once inhabited. Energon and minerals were packed into every conceivable free corner of that ship despite its size.

Shockwave welcomed them and the news. He'd been pushed hard to keep control of the planet and didn't control the moons. That had lasted less than two metacycles after Prowl set himself to work, and Soundwave had learned something important about his lover. He tolerated competition, genuine competition, very poorly. Ultra Magnus was taken alive, and it was only compliance coding that held Prowl in check from shooting him where he stood in line with the other prisoners. It was an intense reaction, but at least Ultra Magnus was the enemy.

Onslaught was an ally. He should have been welcomed. He had not been. Prowl had a private fit when he learned that they'd been freed, and then again when Megatron had pardoned them on Shockwave's advice. Soundwave had made a quiet point to ensure that both tacticians were stationed well away from regular contact with Prowl, just for everyone's sake. It wouldn't due to anger Megatron when the warlord had nothing else to occupy him but disciplining troops.

Half a dozen Autobots had already been reformatted, but more than a bit to Soundwave's surprise, Jazz hadn't been among them. The saboteur had been compliant, even helpful in settling other Autobots. As much as Soundwave wanted to wipe him, he could find no excuse and he was barred from inventing one.

All thoughts of the past and enemies cleared from Soundwave's processor when Prowl entered their apartment. It was built with them both in mind with every luxury available. Megatron could be incredibly generous in a good mood. Both of them preferred simple and efficient decor, and had worked to make this their ideal home.

"What has your processors in a short, Soundwave?" Prowl's voice was low, even concerned. It didn't take telepathy to know he was thinking something related to work had Soundwave jacked up. That the tension was personal never crossed his processors.

"Soundwave: is worried," the host answered honestly, and within moments Prowl's presence was behind him, hands on his shoulders. Soundwave tilted his helm back to look up at him. 

"Why worried?" Prowl asked with concern. 

"Soundwave: wishes to propose something, but does not wish to lose Prowl," Soundwave murmured.

"You won't lose me, even if I refuse for now," Prowl promised after a moment, a reflexive tac-net crunching of odds and reactions to every possibility Prowl could conceive of. It was all easily read by Soundwave, and reassuring even before Prowl spoke.

Soundwave nodded, and reached up to touch Prowl's face. "Soundwave: would like to merge with Prowl," he said.

Prowl's gasp was one of surprise, but he pressed into the touch softly as he worked through that. They didn't hardline because of Prowl's coding to protect his tac-net at all costs making the process stressful, but his spark he had never truly contemplated.

It was a long, quiet moment as they waited, Prowl probing coding to ensure he was allowed, then probing his spark an aspect he was far less comfortable with. A normal lover might be unnerved by the long silence, but Soundwave found it rewarding to know what Prowl was thinking and that the question was given all the serious consideration it deserved.

Even for normal mecha this was a significant step.

Gradually Prowl's mind settled as each check came back with the same answer: this is acceptable. He leaned forward and down to kiss Soundwave softly on the lips as the mask parted. "Are the cassettes away?"

A few moments later he heard the open and shut of both a ceiling hatch and a wall hatch and Soundwave drew his visor back and looked at Prowl. "Cassettes: are gone now."

"Then let's retire to our berth," Prowl shivered in anticipation. "Have you merged before?"

"My spark: has only been used during the construction of the cassettes," Soundwave said as he stood and slipped his hand into Prowl's, leading him through their home. "Merging: has been during that process alone."

"Cassettes are kindled?" Prowl asked with genuine surprise.

Soundwave hummed a negative. "Kindling: requires two sparks. Cassettes: are pieces of only mine."

Prowl nodded. "How often do you create a new cassette?" he asked, curious about a process he'd never thought about before.

"Historically: when I have needed to, with the exception of Ravage, who was my first," Soundwave said. "A companion. Hosts: cannot create indefinitely. Symbiots: take pieces of us." They climbed into the berth together and sat facing each other. Soundwave put his hand over his spark. "Pieces of me."

Prowl's fingers caressed that hand, then slid between the fingers to caress the plating over the host's spark. "You must be very strong, to have created so many and still teek as you do," he murmured and leaned forward for a soft, chaste kiss. "Does it reduce your functioning expectancy?"

"Eventually," Soundwave said. "Soundwave: has strength for more." He glanced down for a moment, then back to Prowl. "Perhaps, some orn, we might program one together."

The thrill that flashed through Prowl surprised the Praxian for a moment, but it didn't take much to track it to being offered to influence a being that Soundwave gave his spark in creating. "I would be honored," he whispered, still slightly in awe of the potential offer. It would not be soon, but that Soundwave would even consider making such an offer was deeply indicative of how serious the host was of their relationship and its future. It wasn't as if the idea, or even the idea of creating or raising anything, had crossed Prowl's processors. It wasn't a normal part of most sparked mecha's makeup.

"When we are ready, and there is use for one," Prowl added as he got his processors in order and leaned forward for another kiss. He turned his attention inward to find the protocols for his armor and spark chamber. He hadn't needed them yet, hadn't even thought about this act before. Not in any but the most abstract ways at least.

Soundwave's presence was there with him and he heard the host's chest unlock, felt the cassettes' dock moving away before the mechanics beneath parted. Prowl felt energy against his plating and looked down to see a sapphire crystal, the dark violet spark inside just as rich in color. 

He was transfixed by the image for a long moment, and felt gratitude when Soundwave did not attempt to refocus his attention. He found his controls and unlocked his armor, exposing a spark and chamber that were both nearly white with only the palest tint of blue. Very close to his default optic color, he noted absently.

"Your spark: is lovely," Soundwave murmured, then looked into Prowl's optics. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Prowl shivered slightly in anticipation as he leaned forward, offering himself more than demanding. His spark wasn't quite as sure as the first leaders met. The energy felt strange to it, not right.

Soundwave knew why, but as he watched the processors he knew that Prowl's were taking it as feeling strange because it was new, rather than that it was a different spark than he was used to.

Soundwave pulled their helms together and x-vented. He'd been in brief merges before, with his cassettes, but never with a lover. Not like this. Not this _vulnerable_. 

And, some part of him was afraid that Prowl's spark would _remember_.

It certainly knew this wasn't what it was expecting as their energies began to mingle, but it didn't resist past that first startled moment of _not-right_.

Prowl moaned, his armor shivering even as his core didn't twitch a micron.

~Feels so good.~ Prowl's awareness reached through his spark to Soundwave's.

~Yes,~ Soundwave breathed, sinking fully into the blissful absence of his rigid processors. Everything felt more fluid in here, he could press against Prowl without calculation. ~Yes, it does.~ It was easy to speak, and the strict sentence construction that he could either adhere to or fight against was absent entirely. He didn't think he would like this freedom all the time, but in small doses, he thought he would definitely learn to enjoy it. 

~So this is Soundwave without his coding,~ Prowl mused, exploring a little but mostly reveling in the relaxed pleasure and his own lack of thought editing.

~Yes,~ Soundwave's spark said warmly, fascinated. ~And this is Prowl. It feels different from a creation merge.~ Small zaps and stutters of pleasure moved between their sparks as the energy mingled. 

~I'm glad for it,~ Prowl's spark snuggled into the pleasure of mingling its energy with a trusted other. ~Shouldn't be like creating.~

~No,~ Soundwave agreed. Their sparks pulsed together. The feeling of _Prowl_ was intense, he felt like he could see all of him. Like Prowl could see all of him. The spark mixed with his was intense, deep. The surface felt gentle, sweet, but deep underneath Soundwave could feel _power_ , and a savagery that was contained only by will and coding. It left him curious why a mecha sparked for law enforcement would have such a severe temperament. Surely it would be more beneficial for the temperament to be mellow.

Of course, if Prowl was as mellow as a good law enforcement officer should be, he would not have survived the war, nor would he have been the brutally efficient tactician that he was. It showed in his ability to discipline, no matter how little Prowl enjoyed it.

~Glad I survived. Very glad you survived,~ Prowl murmured as the pleasure distracted him more fully. ~You're so calm.~

~It takes a level helm and spark to manage Megatron,~ Soundwave said, then chuckled. ~And an even more level one to manage Rumble and Frenzy.~ His spark pulsed steadily. ~I enjoy serenity and stability.~

~I like your calmness,~ Prowl purred, amusement flaring deep and honest at the truth of the statement, especially about the cassettes. ~They will never mature, will they?~

~Never,~ Soundwave said with amused resignation. ~Symbiots come into being in their full state, taken from the mature sparks of their hosts.~ He caressed Prowl. ~I enjoy your passion.~

~Good,~ Prowl moaned, his spark giving the first spasm of their building overload. He had a thought, but it dissolved before it could be articulated, even here. 

Soundwave's spark coiled with tension and pleasure, weaving and wrapping around Prowl's as it was drawn up with it. Soundwave wanted to ask about the thought, maybe search for it, but it suddenly didn't seem important. The hard pulses that vibrated through both of them, though, those were consuming. Soundwave wrapped around Prowl, felt Prowl wrapped around him, souls close to one. 

Neither knew whose thought it was that _Till All Are One'_ suddenly made sense and the maelstrom of energy cascaded through their frames, wiping out thought from spark and processors alike in a brilliant, crackling halo of blue around them both. The cries were contained to their quaking sparks and for those moments of overload, there was no distinction between color or energy. 

And then it slipped away and their sparks parted, easing away and shivering, leaving both feeling relaxed, and overwhelmed. 

"Soundwave: found that enjoyable," the host murmured, dazed but warm and content to have his lover, a mech he desired as a true mate, just as relaxed and sated on top of him. Prowl made even things he had long questioned the usefulness of very enjoyable.

"I look forward to doing so again," Prowl agreed, content to sink into recharge where they were.

* * *

While spark merging was never the first thing that Prowl and Soundwave were inclined to do, it became something they enjoyed exploring. Two sparks that had never truly met before, who had never merged with anyone before, at least as far as Prowl believed, enjoyed learning and discovering together. 

This merge was no different, and as they shuddered and joined together, Soundwave found himself more relaxed than usual. It was barely a moment later when Prowl's attention was drawn to _change_ and it pressed towards the source of the difference. A single glance told Soundwave what Prowl had yet to grasp: the draw was the bonds with his cassettes, a place in his spark that Soundwave typically kept shielded.

~My symbiots,~ he explained. ~I block the bonds when we merge, and other times when I do not require their input.~ His spark smiled. ~Generally that is when I am making love to you.~

~Ah,~ Prowl drew back from the bonds to sink further into the part of Soundwave's spark he was more familiar with. ~Is it nice, to always be able to check on them?~

Soundwave hummed deeply. ~Yes,~ he said, and guided Prowl's attention back. ~This is Ravage,~ he said, singling out one of the brighter spots. ~Laserbeak, Rumble, Frenzy, Buzzsaw.~ Each a slightly different shape and color, except for the two bipedal cassettes, ~I know that they are alive and healthy. If they need me, I know. It's nice.~ He sighed with bliss, refocusing on Prowl. ~This is nice.~

~It is,~ Prowl's spark sighed in contentment. ~Will we ever have it?~

Soundwave's spark stuttered. ~I-it?~ he asked, before finding solid ground again. ~A bond?~

~It's a nice thought, to never wonder,~ Prowl backed off the idea rapidly. Not withdrawing it, but giving Soundwave all the space he might want to contemplate the concept.

The host relaxed, contemplating, but the time required to fully mull over such a life changing commitment proved to be too long for the merge, and the shivers of pleasure soon turned into spasms that shook through them both. The unified sparks arched and crackled with ecstasy, and left both frames panting as they looked at each other. 

"Soundwave: has never truly contemplated a bond before," Soundwave said.

"Neither had I, but it is a nice idea," Prowl murmured, his frame lax. "I don't have the same access as you do to always knowing what is going on."

Soundwave nodded. He could feel just how much Prowl didn't want to press the issue on him, and knew that if he said no and backed out, he wouldn't hear of it until he brought it up himself. It was comforting. "Soundwave: is not opposed," he finally said. "However: would like to take his time. Spark bonds: are deeply altering."

"Agreed. It is not to be taken on quickly or without thought," Prowl said honestly. "But a legal bonding I have given enough thought to, if you are willing."

Soundwave smiled. _You know me well,_ whispered across their minds and he felt Prowl preen a bit. "A legal bonding: would be practical and economical," he said. "Such an arrangement: beneficial to us both." He paused, carefully forming the next sentence in his mind before speaking. "I think I would like that."

Prowl shifted enough to meet Soundwave's optics. "I know I would. You have long been a welcome constant in my existence. I would have it be legally recognized for the extent it extends to. Do ... are ceremonies of importance to you?"

Soundwave pondered the question. "Ceremonies: are not unimportant," he finally decided. "But not necessary. Would Prowl enjoy one?" he asked curiously, stroking his lover's jaw.

"I don't have a _unit_ ," Prowl had to resort to the Praxian glyph, but his processors easily filled in the context. A mixture of working with and being socially bonded to a society unto itself with a group of similarly sparked mecha. Something Prowl had never experienced. "The only desire for ceremony is with them."

"Understood," Soundwave said. "Perhaps ... our Lord could preside?" he asked hopefully. "Should he give permission."

"Yes. He has offered reward often enough. Perhaps it is time we claim one. Something selfish, just for us," Prowl suggested, a daring thought for both of them. He nuzzled into the hand against his jaw. "When you are ready, I want this. New contract and all."

A hard surge of excitement went through Soundwave's field and into Prowl's mind. "Soundwave: does as well."

* * *

Prowl leaned back against Soundwave on their lounge in front of the heated iron coils, flute of flavored high grade in one hand, tapping on the datapad they were constructing their legal bonding contract on with the other. Soundwave had an arm around his middle, watching as the new lines were entered. 

"Cassettes: may feel free to confirm any commands with me should they wish," he added as Prowl finished. "But not to disobey or ignore." 

"Like he'd tell us to do anything you'd say no to," Rumble said with a shrug, and Ravage purred her agreement.

"Certainly not anything I'm aware Soundwave would object to," Prowl agreed even as he added the stricture.

Soundwave nuzzled him. "Soundwave: doubts very much that Prowl would issue such an order. Line: only for their security." 

"Boss wants us to feel good about a new boss," Frenzy translated, jumping onto the back of the lounge. "But we like you."

"Thank you," Prowl responded with a bit of a smile for the eternal juvenile.

"Cassettes: have any other additions they wish for their section?" Soundwave asked.

"So if you're going to be our boss too, does that mean our allowance gets doubled?" Rumble asked, causing every cassette to perk up.

Soundwave frowned and opened his mouth, then stopped, closed it, and considered the question. "Soundwave ... believes that some amount of celebration in the form of increased finances would be appropriate. _Not:_ doubled," he added quickly, forestalling the twins' celebration.

"I am agreeable to what you decide is reasonable for them," Prowl said smoothly. "My investments are profitable."

"Increased allowance: generally comes from demonstrated personal responsibility," Soundwave said, getting identical optic rolls from the twins. "Prowl: is ready to move onto finances?" 

"Then even doubled, the twins likely don't receive as much as Ravage," Prowl teased the pair lightly. "Yes. Are we going to join our finances?"

"Soundwave: believes perhaps a 50/50 joining would be prudent," the host said. "To increase over time if desired. One joint account with all attached savings and bonds, two individual?" 

"Agreeable," Prowl nodded and filled in the information. "Household expenses: divided as they currently are, or do we put funds into a joint account for expected expenses?"

"Joint account: preferable," Soundwave said. "Funds: should be placed in with 10% extra in order to create cushion for unexpected circumstances." 

Ravage rumbled something up to her master, and then made a noise that sounded distinctly like a snicker. The twins protested and Soundwave chuckled. 

"Ravage adds: unexpected circumstances would include any increase in Rumble and Frenzy's allowance," the host translated. 

Prowl chuckled as well. "Unlike an increase in Ravage, Laserbeak or Buzzsaw's allowance. Those would be expected expenses. Ten percent sounds good. It will give us a desirable reserve to dip into when needed."

"Agreed," Soundwave said, and pressed his mouth against Prowl's neck. "Property holdings: should be fine under a standard civil bonding agreement, unless Prowl objects?"

"Negative," Prowl hummed with pleasure as he uploaded that entire section to the contract, then double-checked its terms before moving on to the next sector. "Medical expenses. Household expense, regardless of source?"

Soundwave hummed an affirmative. "If Prowl is damaged: what measures should be taken to sustain his spark?" 

The question startled the Praxian before he sank into thought about it. "I do desire to continue functioning, though not if it will harm my unit. If the expense and stress are worth it, it your decision to make at the time it becomes an issue. The only exception I can think of is if the damage will leave me crippled, physically or mentally."

"May Soundwave: weigh the severity of lasting damage against quality of life?" the host asked quietly. "Or: is any crippling damage too much?"

"You may decide," Prowl's answer came faster than the previous one, even though he couldn't think of a crippling injury that was worth surviving. His trust in Soundwave's assessments and judgment not to force him to live in a way he would be miserable was strong. "You know me, my needs, and enough medicine to understand what damage will do to me. I trust your assessment over the medic's."

Soundwave nodded and nuzzled Prowl's neck as he reached around to enter the terms, and Prowl felt his mind full of the telepath's understanding of what he considered an acceptable quality of life. "Should Soundwave suffer damage: the cassettes' needs are to come before my own. Should Soundwave be fully crippled: life-sustaining care is only to be removed after uncoerced and unified agreement from all living symbiots. Soundwave: would like Prowl to control all other medical decisions should Soundwave be unable."

"I understand," Prowl said, his field and mind warm with agreement to Soundwave's idea of quality of life, and his understanding why Soundwave would want to have his spark function even if he no longer did. The symbiots were individual lives, but they would not outlive their host.

Soundwave's field and mind both gave small pulses of pleasure that Prowl understood and accepted so well. They finished filling out the medical wishes that went into greater detail together, and came to the end of the document. 

"Soundwave: is ready to sign and file," Soundwave said, excitement in his voice.

"As am I," Prowl actually trilled with excitement. He signed his designation glyph, then handed it to Soundwave to sign his much more complex one. _Offer to let the symbiots sign?_ Prowl pushed the thought to the forefront of his mind for Soundwave to pick up. It wasn't legally binding, since they were not legally independent from their host, but it was an offer of respect that Prowl recognized them as individual, even if not independent, beings that the contract affected.

 _Yes!_ Soundwave's field spoke his answer even without the glyph that echoed through Prowl's awareness, and suddenly all five cassettes were in their laps, eager and excited. 

"It's like we're a normal family almost," Frenzy said happily. 

"Nothing normal about us," Rumble snickered, only to be pushed off Prowl's lap by Ravage shouldering him. The felinoid rubbed her jaw against Prowl's face, purring and adoring him for the offer and for the attention he gave her.

"Good," Prowl rumbled, his field ecstatic that his suggestion was met with such approval. "Sign in order of age?" he suggested, even as he allowed Soundwave the choice.

"It is the only fair method," Soundwave said solemnly, a tone that suggested this issue had been brought up before. Ravage didn't even wait for the datapad to be turned her way before she pressed her paw to it. Laserbeak followed, then Rumble and Frenzy, and Buzzsaw at the end signed with his beak. He flew up to Prowl's shoulder to perch there afterwards, settling with all of them. 

"Now what?" Frenzy asked. 

"Now: Lord Megatron must approve and then the document is filed with the state," Soundwave said.

Prowl turned his helm for a soft kiss, his joy at this stage nearly overwhelming. "He is in his office now, with no anticipated work he cares about," he murmured as their lips parted.

"An appointment: has just been scheduled," Soundwave purred, the notice popping up in Prowl's HUD not one nanoklik later.

Prowl purred back and shivered, feeling impatient for the first time in his existence. It was all it took to get the symbiots off his lap so they could stand, though Buzzsaw didn't abandon his spot on Prowl's shoulder.

Soundwave opened his chest for the others to jump in, though Laserbeak chose to perch on his shoulder similarly to the other avian. "If we leave now: we can stop for brunch," Soundwave suggested.

"I like that idea," Prowl agreed to it, excited and warm and full of emotional pleasure. One hand slid into Soundwave's while the other stroked Buzzsaw's back.

Soundwave kissed him, then closed his facemask as they reached the door. Prowl's fingers loosened automatically as they stepped outside--habit, to respect Soundwave's aversion for public displays of their relationship and affection--but Soundwave's tightened. 

"No," the host said. _It will be legal it will be real it will be acceptable._

Another thrill surged through Prowl and his fingers closed again, delighted that they had passed another stage. Soundwave always moved forward in careful steps, and never accidentally. 

As they walked, mecha stared. That part wasn't unusual; their passage always garnered looks. They were far too important in the hierarchy to ignore. This time, though, they received startled double takes, both at their joined hands and at the avian on Prowl's shoulder. Prowl pointedly ignored the looks. Everyone _knew_ he and Soundwave had been together for vorns already. Even so, it was nice that they could display it a bit more. Prowl was proud to be Soundwave's lover, mate, soon to be legal bonded. They had worked hard to entwine Prowl into the unit of six that was Soundwave, and Prowl knew that all the effort, worry, stress and compromises had been worth it. He knew that they would continue to be worth it, that this was worth working on to keep.

He felt Soundwave's smile through his field and they traveled in companionable silence to a little establishment they both liked. Mixmaster had started it up as a side project, and the need for social gathering spaces had quickly turned it into a heavily populated establishment. As they came within visible range of it, Prowl felt Soundwave stiffen. He questioned with his field, looking over the scene with heightened senses. 

Nothing looked unusual. The road was under construction, but the project had been planned for some time now, and even advertised for on the cafe doors. "Soundwave?" he asked. 

"Soundwave: forgot about the construction," the host said, field evening out. "The noise: disrupts the atmosphere."

"We can go to Turret's," Prowl offered quietly, genuinely willing. "It's not as good, but it will be quieter."

"Noise: will not be a problem," Soundwave assured him. "Prowl: likes this establishment much better. Come." They resumed walking, going past the slave workers who were tearing apart the old road. 

The Autobot slaves had all been stripped of their t-cogs, and each wore a dual-purpose pain- and stasis-capable collar. Viruses of Soundwave's design had been uploaded to prevent them from excessive disobedience, and they had all been painted a slate gray. The only colors on their frames came from their optics and the red stripe across their faces, a mocking of their former faction.

As they passed one, a now non-distinct medium sized frame stripped of its classic visor, Prowl's field gave a twitch that the mech himself ignored, but the slave just couldn't. He didn't stop working, but his field reached out further to touch Prowl's, and somewhat to Soundwave's surprise, all the slave checked was physical and emotional status, then it withdrew even as Prowl's field tried to keep the contact with something familiar that it had no reason to know.

Soundwave kept himself from looking, but the warning that he pushed over was clear. The other slaves all shuffled as they walked by, some of them looking to that medium frame. 

It was over in a sparkbeat, so fast it might not have even happened, gone the moment they had passed by. 

Soundwave squeezed Prowl's hand and felt the mech, spark and processors, focus back to him with a joyful, almost giddy surge at what they were about to do. The silence continued as they found a seat and placed an order without looking at the menu. They came here often enough they knew what was on offer. Prowl always had two small cubes. One of a light solar and one of the special of the orn.

Soundwave took his standard acidic mid-grade, and always requested exactly one sip of Prowl's cube of the special, and occasionally ordered a second of it. Movement through the window caught both their attention and they looked up to watch a passing citizen stop and transform into root mode before hauling one of the smaller slaves out of line.

Prowl's distaste for what they knew was happening was clear in his processor--he hid nothing from Soundwave as Soundwave had never given him reason to fear--but Prowl's field and frame were perfectly disinterested in the rape about to happen. It was lawful, and Prowl's personal feelings on the subject were not going to influence his behavior. It was core deep, hardcoded into his very frame. Lord Megatron ruled that the slaves had no rights other than to energon, maintenance and to not be damaged beyond hope of repair. It was the end of all discussion on the matter.

It didn't end the thinking on it though, or the emotions.

Soundwave understood. It was unnecessary, and gave nothing to the new empire while sewing resentment among the slaves. It was illogical, based solely on revenge. It was also a troubling start to what they both hoped would become a strong and stable world. 

In all ways possible, it was a bad sign. 

None of the other slaves moved to stop the rape or help their former comrade. Their gazes stayed down and away, continuing their work. The unfortunate victim protested in silence, vocalizer still disabled, but did nothing to get away. They all knew how it worked, knew the rules and knew how to survive. Those that couldn't adapt had been reformatted vorns ago.

"We both seem to be thinking about less pleasant things than we should be, given where we are going," Prowl's quiet voice broke Soundwave's line of thought.

"Yes," Soundwave said, and immediately looked away. He smiled though his field and reached across the table to cover Prowl's hand with his own. 

Their drinks were placed on the table, and outside, the snagged slave was tossed back to the others, valve cover missing and transfluid staining his plating. He grabbed his jackhammer and went back to work on the road. He'd be repaired with all the others during evening maintenance, and was worth no more consideration. 

* * *

They drove home in the evening after leaving Megatron's palace, their joy too great to let the lingering unease ruin their happiness. Their Lord had been suspicious about their request, doubtful instead of encouraging. He'd permitted it in the end, after listening to them both swear their loyalty. 

::What did you read from him?:: Prowl asked carefully, cautious of not going outside the bounds of what was permitted in his actions regarding their Lord.

::Soundwave: barred from using telepathy on Lord Megatron.:: The host explained first. ::Lord Megatron: unhappy with our bonding.::

::I don't understand why,:: Prowl mused. He brushed his field along Soundwave's from behind him on the road, teasing. ::Let's stop and celebrate with some treats.::

::Soundwave: would find that enjoyable,:: he responded with a warm, almost overcharged delight flowing through his field to Prowl.

Prowl about wiggled on his tires as they turned down the street that would take them back to Mixmaster's place. The construction crew was still there, nearing the end of their work for the orn, and one of the gray shuttles used to transport the slaves was waiting near the site. 

They transformed up together and walked in holding hands again, and Soundwave even went as far as to nuzzle Prowl in an almost-kiss, though his mask stayed in place. Prowl's doorwings quivered with joy as he did kiss the mask. It didn't matter to him if lips touched or not. He recognized the intent and the value and could not have been happier as they sat down.

This time Prowl did look at the menu, and Soundwave could hear him making plans for the evening that sounded delightfully enjoyable and erotic.

Soundwave supplied a few of his own, thrilled with what was coming off of Prowl, and just as thrilled that the Praxian didn't seem to be noticing the slaves outside in the slightest. He lifted a menu as well, looking over it for the cassettes to place to-go orders if they'd like. Rumble and Frenzy were the first to shove their awareness through the joint bond, between them naming almost everything listed.

Normally Soundwave would have chastised them and restricted it to a single item each, but it was a true celebration, so he allowed them four each. The others added their selections, and soon it was enough to fill four boxes, along with the sweet and sour energon mix that Prowl wanted to sip on here and the acidic mix Soundwave selected.

Scrapper came out with the packaged boxes and set them on the table with an amused look. "Havin' a party?" 

"Affirmative," Soundwave said blandly, passing over a credit stick.

Scrapper took the stick, but was too startled to move. He could only stare at the pair.

"Megatron authorized our legal bonding," Prowl supplied after a moment of Soundwave attempting to stare the stunned Constructicon down.

"Oh," Scrapper said. "Well that sounds..." 

_Dull as slag,_ Soundwave heard. 

"...really exciting!" 

"Indeed," Soundwave said, linking his fingers around Prowl's.

"We intend to enjoy it," Prowl replied smoothly, though it was easy for Soundwave to pick up that Prowl had 'heard' between the lines as well. Young as he was, Prowl did understand editing one's words.

"Right. Well, have a good time," Scrapper said before scooting away to avoid thinking any more than he had to about their plans, and his idea of what those plans meant.

"Sometimes it amazes me just how many mecha believe our duty masks are our only ones," Prowl mused as he sipped his energon.

"The misunderstanding: is incredible," Soundwave agreed before parting his mask to take a sip, and closing it once he was done.

"Occasionally advantageous, however," Prowl's smile was almost predatory behind his cube. "The less most believe we are capable of something, the more effective we are at it."

Soundwave's visor brightened. ~I could not agree more.~

~I would anticipate knowledge of what we do in the berth would crash anyone. Particularly tonight.~ Prowl added many images of potential activities to the thought for Soundwave to pick up. ~I understand having one of the jellies melt in one's valve to be licked out is quite intense.~

A flood of images and sensations cascaded through his mind, each one more erotic than the next. Their fields completely still and calm, faces neutral as they sipped their energon. 

"Would Prowl: like to return home now?" Soundwave asked after their panels were burning. 

"Yes, I believe I would," Prowl managed his best deadpan tone, though his mind and frame were alive with desire-fuelled charge. He picked up the box he'd ordered to subspace but left the other two for Soundwave.

Soundwave stayed behind for a moment to get them situated into his subspace and left a tip on the table, inspired solely by his good mood. With Prowl at the door, he looked out the window and saw the slave looking back through the shuttle window. He stared back, and then the shuttle drove away and Soundwave followed Prowl out. Prowl didn't seem to have registered much. Oh, he'd noticed the slave staring, but it hadn't raised more than a note in Prowl's awareness. The same level of importance that Scrapper held when the mech had approached.

Soundwave settled onto his wheels. ~What shall we indulge in first?~ he asked calmly, as though he was commenting on the pavement type.

~Begin with fueling each other with treats, then perhaps you would lick one that's melted from my valve, before I take your spike down my intake,~ Prowl suggested as they drove home.

~Perhaps I shall coat it with some flavorings,~ Soundwave hummed, offering an image of his spike with crystal dust covering the entire length, and then changed the perspective to show Prowl on his back with Soundwave over him, each performing oral on the other at the same time.

~Yes.~ Prowl's processors barely whispered the response as he had to struggle to pay enough attention to driving not to crash. When he'd settled enough, he pushed a long-familiar image of Soundwave on his back, their optics locked, as Prowl slowly sank into his valve.

It was Soundwave's turn to suddenly need to focus to avoid a crash, and Prowl smiled to himself. Soundwave found revealing his optics infinitely more erotic than baring any piece of interfacing equipment, and Prowl loved to use it to best effect. 

~Cheating.~ Soundwave's mental tone was sulky.

~No more than you've been,~ Prowl purred back, selecting another suggestion that was less erotic for the host, but as intense as anything they'd tried for Prowl. Soundwave against Prowl's back, the long, thick spike deep inside Prowl's valve as Soundwave tipped Prowl's helm back to kiss. ~I do enjoy seeing your face, the way you express your pleasure and desire for me no matter what we are doing. Your field makes me warm like nothing else~.

~ _You_ make me warm like nothing else,~ Soundwave said, and their fields flushed together for the rest of the drive home. 


	7. Denial Doesn't Work Twice

Prowl was driving patrol. He needed it. His frame and processors needed it. Without the intensity of the war on him, he _had_ to perform his intended function in some way. The easiest way was to drive a patrol every few orns. It dropped his stress level enough that even Rumble had commented on how 'the New Boss' was a lot more mellow when he came home late. Of course, he'd implied that Prowl had gotten a not-so-quick 'face in, but Soundwave knew better. Prowl needed to _drive_.

As he came upon a work crew digging out a shattered factory so the space could be rebuilt, he slowed, then pulled to a stop as his spark's uneasy pulse. A quick scan showed nothing out of the ordinary, just slaves performing their assigned function. None of them were being harassed, and the work pace was steady. No reason to feel uneasy, but he kept watching anyway. 

After a klik or two, his presence was noticed and they all began to react with typical signs of nervousness. Prowl was sure that any free mecha stopping to watch them was cause for concern, but he hoped that staying where he was wouldn't disrupt their work. 

One didn't seem nervous, though, and that one caught his attention more than the others. Average frame and size, blue optics, nothing to really distinguish him from a half dozen others of his build. He worked well, but his optics were on Prowl more than they weren't.

It was unsettling, even more so that his spark kept wanting to get closer.

Why?

Why would his spark want him to get close to _that_ mecha? It wasn't as if Prowl even knew who it was. A quick ping gave a designation -- Jazz -- and that was enough for Prowl to recognize the Autobot SIC for much of the war. The head of Special Operations and arguably one of the most feared mecha off the battlefield.

That was possibly why he was so intrigued, Prowl mused. Jazz had stood to be his most fearsome opponent during the war; his fast processor and natural adaptation and intuition had all the makings of a significant rival. Prowl privately suspected that the Prime had reigned his SIC in, to the Decepticons' victory. 

That was a much better option than believing a myth happened to _him_ and his most dangerous foe. Prowl refused to believe in spark resonance. It was a crazy, romantic notion, completely unproven, and while Prowl admitted he had romantic inclinations, he didn't have crazy ones.

Then the Autobot slave stopped working entirely, met his optics, and just stared right at him. The other slaves became uneasy again, whispering and hissing among themselves, mostly to Jazz.

The staring match held, Prowl unable to break their gaze or punish the impudent mecha.

And then movement, to the left, and one of the slaves broke from the line and started sprinting towards him. The supervisors shouted and started chasing after, but before they could catch him, and before either triggered the slave's collar, he was on his knees at Prowl's pedes, grabbing his legs. "Prowl, please Prowl please it's me it's Bluestreak," the mech sobbed. "Please I need you to reformat me I can't take it I can't take the nightmares! They never end it's all I can see all the time is Praxus burning and I don't want to get hurt and misbehave and try and run away I just want the reformat and no one will give it to me!"

Prowl twitched as the slave screamed and then collapsed offline while hel was still trying to process the words that had come at him so quickly. The guards came close and looked ready to grovel, but Prowl had no time for it. "Has this one asked to be reformatted?"

"He has, Commander," the eradicon said, as they both gave him salutes. "But his behavior has been exemplary and there is no process in place for a requested reformat, only for those who cannot be controlled."

Prowl nodded fractionally in understanding. "Do not mark his record for this. I will put the process for voluntary reformatting in place." He glanced down at the mech that had once shared his frametype. The doorwings had been stripped, depriving him of their sensory input, which was no doubt only adding to the slave's distress. "Cruelty is unbecoming."

"Yes, Commander," the second eradicon said as they gathered the stasis-locked and offline frame up between them to return to the site. 

As he watched, Prowl saw that the former Autobot SIC was still watching him, silent and unmoving. He wanted to look back, to continue the unrelenting look they had been sharing, but he had more important work to do. By the time Megatron got to his office, Prowl intended to have the voluntary reformatting procedure ready for him to sign. It meant that Prowl also had to be ready to argue for it, a prospect that made his tanks churn and compliance code growl in displeasure. It was permitted to argue one's case, but it didn't mean it was easy to contemplate doing so.

With a final look at Jazz, then Bluestreak, Prowl transformed and drove him. His thoughts were still in enough turmoil that it didn't require a telepath to know he was unsettled.

Ravage curled up in his lap while he worked and Frenzy sat at the edge of the desk chatting with him about the procedures he was creating, and they were all still there when Soundwave came home a joor later. 

"Prowl?" the host questioned in a murmur as Buzzsaw flew from his shoulder to Prowl's and tapped his helm in concern.

Prowl reached up to stroke the avian as he looked up at his bonded. "I had a most disturbing encounter this orn. A slave, one who is very well behaved, begged to be reformatted. What kind of society have we helped create, that a mecha would beg for that, not even knowing what happens afterwards?"

Soundwave looked down and away. "The ... Psychological care: ..." Prowl could feel him struggling, torn between agreement and the fear of being disobedient. "Slaves' needs: are kept at minimum so that others may enjoy the excess," he finally said.

"They are intended to deactivate for the crime of disobedience," Prowl murmured quietly, though his mind was far more explicit in his displeasure and even outright rejection of many aspects of how the post-war world had been shaped. The most dangerous, downright treasonous thought was one that Soundwave had as well.

They had replaced corruption with intentional evil.

"Yet the most disobedient are those who get a chance at citizenship," Prowl was struggling too, with the painful lack of reason involved with such a choice. "The obedient suffer."

"It's revenge," Frenzy said matter-of-factly as he helped his twin up onto the desk. "Lord Megamoron doesn't like that they challenged him so he uses 'em. 'Long as they're useful they can suffer. Simple." 

Soundwave shifted uncomfortably, and Prowl felt a sudden wash of guilt through his field.

"Uncivilized," Prowl spat before his frame stiffened with pain for crossing the line.

Soundwave's arms were immediately around him, holding him close. "Such things: may be changed," he said. "But carefully."

It was Prowl's first serious reprimand from his compliance code and it left the Praxian badly shaken and very willing to seek comfort and protection in his bonded's arms. He drew a deep vent of air in and let it go slowly. "How can this be written so Lord Megatron would approve it?"

Soundwave let out a shaky x-vent, then picked up the draft and started reading, making slight changes as he went. "Soundwave: should present it," he said.

Prowl nodded, trusting both his bonded and his bonded's greater understanding of their Lord. "For the empire, we must improve the conditions for all mecha," he murmured, leaning into Soundwave's presence like a balm. "For the good of the empire."

"For the good of the empire," Soundwave echoed, and tried not to think about how far his Lord had fallen.

* * *

Prowl drove once more. Three patrols in a row he'd found himself watching the work crew Jazz was on, and it always went the same. He would stop, they would stare at each other until one of the eradicons on guard duty noticed and zapped the slave, and Prowl would eventually drive off.

This time he was actually planning to see Jazz, and maybe get close enough to teek him. Maybe he'd learn something. It was early morning and Prowl was driving up to the prison the slaves were housed in. He was going to say it was a random inspection. It wasn't even a lie, technically. It just wasn't his primary reason for being there.

The gate opened for him and the head supervisor came out to greet him personally, dipping in a bow of respect. Jacks had been promoted after the war due to exemplary service in battle, being the last survivor of his squad. "Commander," he said in welcome. "What brings you here?" 

"Random inspection," Prowl said easily after he transformed, his field and frame language giving a good vibe to Jacks that Prowl was not looking to make things difficult for him. "I will ensure that all laws and regulations are in place."

"Of course," Jacks said, and his field became tinted with the kind of nervousness that Prowl had long learned to associate with some who genuinely feared doing anything wrong, even by mistake. They tended to be the mecha least likely to have broken regulations. "Would you like a guide, or to look around undisturbed? Whatever is best for you."

"I will walk myself around," Prowl decided. "There is no need to disrupt your duties. I will comm if I have any concerns."

"Yes, Commander," Jacks said, rocking up a little onto his pedes as he smiled and followed Prowl in before ducking back into his office. It left Prowl to his own devices and he made good use of his tac-net in plotting out the most efficient paths. Not just to see the entire facility, but to cross paths with as many slaves as was feasible. He was here to see Jazz, but it would not do to skimp on his self-appointed task simply because it was a cover.

He wasn't oblivious to the looks he got as he walked through the halls, both from slaves and the guards who watched over them. He noted it and set it aside to contemplate more fully later. 

He first toured the energon storage and medical facilities, both of which were completely up to spec and better than what he'd expected to find. The facilities were clean and well-oiled, the transport shuttles in the bay were meticulously cataloged for fuel usage and repairs, and even the most minor systems followed every single regulation. 

He was pleased to see it, and it set his mind somewhat at ease to find mecha capable of following rules to the letter. 

Then he headed into the housing block, where the slaves were kept when they weren't working. The individual cells were blocked off with energy fields, one slave per cell, with energon delivery systems wired through the backs. Notes on the front detailed consumption, behavior, work performed and any necessary notes for handling. 

Prowl read every line, comparing it to his files from when the mecha were Autobots and adding it to his ever-expanding knowledge base. At this early joor, just before first fueling, most slaves were in their cells, and Prowl watched their reactions to him with interest. The aggression and the fear both made sense, though as he walked no one did more than glare.

The clanging of metal a few cells ahead drew his attention. He'd seen a guard go inside a klik earlier, and now he moved just a bit faster to see what was happening, even though he knew. He came up short when he saw the serial number on the info pad on the wall. It wasn't the first slave he'd seen being raped this morning, but this one made his spark clench like the others hadn't. 

The slave that had once been Jazz, Second in Command of the Autobots, Commander of Special Operations, known on both sides of the war for his colorful reputation, was being pushed face-first into the hard floor of his cell. The guard spiking him had a hand around his neck and the other on his hip, claws sunk into the joint. 

Jazz's face was set in a silent grimace. 

Prowl never liked that this was permitted, but now he _hated_ it. His spark roared at him, a snarling firestorm demanding action, demanding intense violence, demanding he _protect_ this enemy of the state. On a level it was horrifying to the loyal Decepticon that had never known Jazz personally. They'd never actually met. It shouldn't matter to him more than any other slave.

Yet it did.

Could spark resonance be real?

Was there any other explanation for this?

He watched silently, processors panicking and spark raging. He tried to think of Soundwave, and his love for his bonded was no less for looking at the slave before him. Some of the panic subsided. He still loved Soundwave. 

The guard overloaded with a grunt inside the slave's valve and pulled out, wiping himself clean and then subspacing the cloth, not offering anything to Jazz. Jazz didn't move, and Prowl ended up getting a perfect view of the dripping valve before the cover snapped shut. 

The guard turned around and started. "Oh, Commander!" he said, and quickly saluted as he lowered the field and stepped out. 

Jazz tensed, and then scrambled to turn around and stared up at Prowl. Prowl couldn't decipher the expression, but it was nothing like the blank stare he'd seen so far. 

"Carry on," Prowl said in his best disinterested voice. He had no idea how he managed to pull it off, but the guard gave him a nod of respect and walked off. After a moment, Prowl sent the signal to unlock Jazz's vocalizer.

Blue optics flickered, but Jazz didn't move.

"Why do you stare at me?" Prowl asked after nearly a klik of silence.

"Would ya prefer if ah didn', m'Lord?" Jazz answered respectfully. 

"That is not the question," Prowl managed to keep his voice steady. "Why do you stare at me?"

"Ah like the way ya look," Jazz said with a grin. "'S that a crime?"

"No," Prowl answered, though his tone was wary. Then he looked at Jazz and twitched his doorwings slightly in contemplation. "Do you often look without wanting more?"

"Ah look at lotsa things without wantin' more," Jazz said. "Ya think y' special, m'Lord?" 

A small, dangerous smile crossed Prowl's features. "It was my strategies that put us on our respective sides of the cell within a vorn of being sparked. So yes, I am special. Of course, by all accounts, so are you if I maintain similar standards of judgment." He gave a soft hum and stepped to center himself more in the cell. "What would you give to be free?"

"Got everythin' ah need right here," Jazz said. "An' nothin' ta give."

Prowl gave a slight nod, muted Jazz's vocalizer and walked on despite the screaming of his spark.

He would need to discuss this with Soundwave tonight. Possibly spark to spark, to mute their coding as much as possible. He might have treacherous things to say. 

* * *

When Soundwave returned home, he was as prepared as he could be for what was waiting for him. His mate was very distressed, enough that he'd sent a message that he needed to talk the klik Soundwave's normal shift was over. In addition, Soundwave knew from Laserbeak that it was about what he'd seen and heard in the slave prison that orn.

It was about Jazz.

Soundwave was trying not to panic. Was Prowl remembering somehow? All of his research on the topic before they'd even drawn up the plans to capture the Autobot tactician had indicated that _no_ , he couldn't remember. And wouldn't. 

But such wipes had so little real, empirical data on them, and Soundwave was doubting his decisions now. Would Prowl hate him for lying? Would he leave? Would he free the Autobots?

Would Megatron have him deactivated just in case?

No. That he could avoid, so long as he was not directly questioned and Prowl did not directly betray Megatron.

Prowl's tone had been worried, he'd spoken that he loved Soundwave. He might have even been afraid.

Stop.

Soundwave focused on stilling his fears. Speculation without data was not helpful. He had to go home and listen to what Prowl said, and what he didn't say, couldn't say.

He stepped inside and followed the echo of Ravage's spark to their berthroom and the Praxian curled up on the berth with his favorite symbiot. He cycled his vents and went to him. "My love," he murmured, and drew both mask and visor away. "What: is wrong? Can Soundwave: help?"

Prowl was in his arms, pressed against his chest as soon as he was next to the berth and refused to give even a little distance despite how awkward it made sitting down.

"Could spark resonance be real?" Prowl's first verbal question came with a jumble of memories of encountering Jazz, every one of them disturbing to the Praxian.

Soundwave's spark contracted painfully. "Spark resonance: is a myth," he said firmly. "Documented cases: do not exist."

"What's happening to me?" Prowl asked, genuinely terrified. "I don't want to be reformatted. I love you."

"Soundwave: will _not_ let that happen," the host said with rare passion in his voice. "Prowl: is not broken. Jazz: is a known manipulator. Control: was once his specialty as much as mine. A logical explanation: _does exist._ "

Prowl nodded against Soundwave's chest and gradually began to uncurl, his trembles now from relief rather than fear. "He's good."

"Very good," Soundwave agreed, looking through the memories that kept flashing by with a more analytic angle. Only five of them directly involved Jazz, but there were many more where the mecha was dominant in Prowl's thoughts and Prowl's growing awareness that his fixation on the slave _was not normal_. "Soundwave: is certain we can find his reasons and methodology."

"It might be a spark gift. His has never been identified, nor confirmed not to exist," Prowl suggested as he tried to think of any possible way of influencing his spark without controlling his processors first. "We have had no physical contact that I am aware of, during or after the war."

Soundwave slowly, hesitantly, nodded. He felt Laserbeak press in on his spark, going straight towards the source of the indecision and he shut his symbiot out with a wave of irritation over the bond. 

That Prowl was dead. This Prowl had never touched Jazz. There should be no difference, and keeping the secret, as he'd been ordered to, would not harm him. 

Would it?

"How can we stop it?" Prowl asked the unanswerable question. "I've tried to not think of him. Tried to avoid him. Even a momentary lapse and I find myself driving to where he is, just to watch him." He couldn't even bring himself to say his reaction to seeing Jazz raped, and how different it was from seeing any other slave raped. How strongly his spark howled for violence to protect the slave. Just that one slave.

Soundwave hesitated. Erasing memories of Jazz would do no good, the problem would only arise again. Having Prowl tell him every time he encountered Jazz might help Soundwave prevent some contact, but not all. He couldn't ensure that Jazz be on sites that Prowl never know about, couldn't give Prowl the sites to have him stay away. There were few viable options from their end. 

"Soundwave ... could put in a request to reformat that slave?" the host murmured, a question more than an offer. "Or have him otherwise removed."

Prowl's spark gave a howl of denial strong enough to be heard through his field, unguarded as it was at home, a reaction that only served to annoy Prowl further. "I doubt Lord Megatron would allow it. Not without Jazz causing _far_ more trouble than he currently does," he huffed, fighting himself between his spark screaming _for_ Jazz and his processors trying to work around the noise to think of a way to make it work. "Even if he is ... wouldn't my spark still respond to his?"

"Unknown," Soundwave said miserably. If he asked to reformat Jazz, he'd have to explain why, and in doing so, let Lord Megatron know that bits and pieces of the Autobot Prowl still remained. 

That might lose him _his_ Prowl, entirely.

Prowl sighed. "I'd rather deal with this without _bothering_ Lord Megatron with it," he said carefully, his thoughts tracking with Soundwave's rather closely.

"Agreed," Soundwave said, pulled Prowl close, and kissed the top of his helm. "Jazz: will not take you from me. I will not let him."

"I do not want him to," Prowl said, relaxing a bit more. He was still troubled by it, but it was no longer a critical concern. He had his mate's support, it was no longer an immediate distress, so all of the information was shoved at the tac-net for processing. With a soft smile he looked up and met his bonded's optics steadily before lifting himself up for a lingering kiss. "You are my bonded, Soundwave."

Soundwave deepened the kiss and held on tight to that promise. 

* * *

Prowl checked to make sure all the cassettes were in the main living room, quietly closed the door to his office, checked the private door they liked to use to ensure it was locked to his satisfaction, and logged onto the state database. Fingers flew over his console as he found himself typing in a sequence of figures that felt burned into his mind, pulling up a file that he was certain he shouldn't look at even though it had never been forbidden. 

Jazz. 

Autobot SIC. Profession before the war: street musician. Incomplete arrest records from multiple occasions. All minor things. Petty crimes at most, and usually just citations for not having a permit or the like.

City of origin: Polyhex.

Which meant the arrests were most likely there, but one never knew. It didn't particularly matter. He wasn't a hardened criminal before the war. Living on the edge, to be sure, but nothing in the file indicated he was headed for serious trouble or his eventual career.

Prowl continued to go through the file, and found himself carefully reading every glyph of the records recovered of Jazz's early vorns in the Autobots, including why he'd joined.

The information was scattered and patchy, damaged, like most of their recovered Autobot records, but Jazz had apparently risen quickly in the ranks. His designation was noted in Decepticon logs long before Prowl would have expected. 

As a noted person of interest, there was surprisingly little on his personal life. Prowl frowned. That was unusual. The Decepticons had figured out a long time ago that exploiting personal weakness was a particularly effective strategy with most Autobots, and had made collecting that kind of data a priority. How had Jazz escaped that? The only thing they really had on Jazz for much of the war was that he was seen with many Autobots and socialized freely, even among the grunts.

Could such a social mecha really have no one special, or was he truly _that good_ that they'd never found out who it was?

There were many, many reasons for anyone that deeply involved with Special Operations to keep a lover hidden, but Soundwave should have been able to find one if it was there to find. 

Prowl scowled. He still didn't understand why the Autobot stared at him. They didn't seem to stare at any of the other Decepticon officers. 

Was it his frametype? Most of the Praxians had been in the Autobot army, Prowl was an anomaly. He'd have to see how they responded to Barricade, the only other Decepticon Praxian to survive the war. It could be his status as the strategist who defeated them, though historically unless the victors aggressively promoted the tactician as the cause of the victory, they were rarely singled out. Generals or other leadership, or occasionally a front line hero typically took that role. The Decepticons definitely did not single him out for unusual praise. He was young and in the background, no matter how important he was to the reality of victory.

Still, Jazz would likely know better. 

Prowl's helm felt like it was being pressed in a vice. None of it made sense. The fact that he needed to understand a manipulative defeated Autobot's actions made even less sense. 

Frustrated, he swiped across the screen, skimming through the next set of pages. They slowed to a stop on the mech's picture file. His spark leapt at the image. Black and white like himself, with thin blue and red stripes down his chest and back. He was lovely, so lovely.

Where had _that_ thought come from?

All right, so they had a similar build, the main differences being that Jazz had stubby sensor horns, didn't have a chevron and hid his doors under his canopy, but surely Prowl would respond to Barricade if he was that fixated on looks. He knew he wasn't. He didn't even find Seekers that appealing, and it seemed that everyone thought they were gorgeous.

Was it the visor? Yes, both mecha he was drawn to had a visor, but looks had never played much a role in his attraction to Soundwave, and it definitely hadn't played a role in his attraction to Jazz before this image.

His spark pulsed hotly in his chest and he found himself looking at the easy grin, the lip plates, and then his chest. 

When had his frame started burning? 

He quickly flipped past the image and onto something less ... simulating. But more reading did nothing to help, and not long after that he closed the file and tried to calm down.

Thinking didn't help, so he retracted his spike cover and began to stroke himself. The touch was electric and he unwillingly imagined a black hand his own size stroking him. Just that, rather than the touch, was enough to drag a decadent moan from him as charge crackled across his plating.

Primus, this was _wrong_. He was a bonded mech. He shouldn't be fantasizing about another like this, much less the enemy.

An enslaved, manipulative, dangerous... 

The door opened behind him. Doorwings, tense and high with his charge, immediately recognized his bonded and Prowl was on his pedes with a rush of relief that he wouldn't overload to thoughts of the enemy. Soundwave had barely stepped into the room when Prowl was against him, lips as desperate as the rest of him.

 _Take me want you don't want to think of **him**_ and variants tumbled through Prowl's processors as he sought his bonded to complete what his curiosity had begun. Guilt was there too, but it was a distant background note to _need_.

 _Calm yes here_ echoed back to him and then Soundwave was pushing him back against the wall. The images of Jazz were forcefully swept aside and replaced with memories of Soundwave as the host reached down to circle his fingers around Prowl's straining spike. There was nothing but love in Soundwave's field and Prowl's gratitude for it and the actions cascaded back as the Praxian went as pliant as his desperate frame allowed.

A deep, resonant groan escaped Prowl as his hips jerked into the touch. His frame was demanding, desperate, but as he could now focus on the mech he wanted to associate with pleasure, Prowl's processors calmed considerably. He tipped his face up to meet Soundwave's optics and filled his processors with all he adored about his bonded, from the joy of recharging with the steady field, to the intense passion they could share, to simply reading and working nearby with their fields lightly mingled, to how tolerate the mech was of his bonded's fixation on this one enemy to the steady support he had always felt from Soundwave.

He soon became grateful for the wall behind him being just as steady, especially when Soundwave ran one leg up his side and he felt his lover's valve sinking down around his spike. Soundwave held him, forehelms pressed together. 

_I'm here. Feel this._

The familiar slick heat and field swept away all thought from Prowl and he clung to his bonded with little more than _yes_ and the pleasure of his need being addressed filling his awareness. The valve of the mech he loved moved and squeezed, anticipating his motions as only Soundwave could.

It was pure bliss.

It only took a few dozen rocks of Soundwave's hips before Prowl shuddered into an overload that whited out his entire sensor net and left him helpless in Soundwave's hold. The host shuddered around him, valve clamping down, a silent cry filling Prowl's mind.

It was everything Prowl adored about their physical passion. Soundwave took such pleasure in Prowl's pleasure, and shared it so freely, that Prowl never felt any need to seek his overload and could almost always focus on enjoying and sharing that enjoyment.

 _Soundwave. Love you._ Prowl's first aware thought as he came back to himself filtered across, but even before that his field was rich with thanks, affection and joy at his bonded's attention. "Love you," he said out loud, happy to give voice to the emotion.

"Soundwave: loves you too," Soundwave murmured. "Prowl: should not feel ashamed or guilty. Whatever you need to do to cope: has my approval. Soundwave: is looking for a solution."

"Thank you," Prowl sighed as his frame finished relaxing, and his processors left no doubt it was for the overload, the reassurance and the permission. "I did not anticipate looking for answers would result in such a charge," he said as his spike retracted out of Soundwave's frame and back into its housing. "I saw his image from early in the war and ... _this_ ," he spread his hands helplessly at his reaction. "I don't understand my reactions, but it is becoming annoying."

"We will find an answer," Soundwave said, lowering his leg back down. "For now: we must make sure he does not control in a damaging way."

"Agreed," Prowl's tone was even, but his mind was in aggressive agreement. He rested his forehelm against Soundwave's chest plate and sighed. "We'll get through this together. We'll beat him together, no matter what he is doing or has done. We're stronger together."

"We are," Soundwave agreed, kissed him, and then drew him away to their berth.

* * *

Prowl tried his best not to think of Jazz, but his thoughts just wouldn't obey his wishes. He found himself dwelling on the memory of the visored face, the easy grin. 

He had to see more. 

He had to be careful. 

He lasted almost two decaorns before he found the schedule for Jazz's slave detail, and realized with a sinking feeling that they had been reassigned to Tarn's reconstruction. That was a long drive, and while it wouldn't prohibit him from doing his duties if he visited, it wasn't anywhere he might wander to. No, if he saw Jazz it would be unquestionably intentional and disruptive.

That truth kept him away for three orns.

By the fourth morning he set his reports up to work on remotely, spent the orn doing four orns' worth of on-site inspections and tours, and on the fifth orn he drove out to Tarn with the full expectation that he'd be home in time for fuel with Soundwave and the symbiots as per usual.

That was his plan. With this much lead time, he was sure Soundwave knew what he intended, an idea backed up by Buzzsaw flying high overhead. That sight warmed him, a sign that Soundwave cared enough to guard him, even when he strayed. No one had said anything about his plans. Jazz and Prowl's growing obsession with him wasn't a hidden subject, but it was not one they liked to talk about unless something new had been discovered. So far the only new development was the lengths Prowl was driven to to get close to the slave.

He came upon the work site late morning and parked a ways away, out of sight. It wouldn't do to alert Jazz to his presence. No, right now he needed to be an observer to the game, not a participant. 

They were tearing up a road, and even from this far away, Prowl knew exactly which one was Jazz. Hunched over as he worked to chip away the pitted surface so it could be cleared. His spark leapt at seeing the mech and he settled in to watch, disturbed as he always was, and just as fascinated as he always was.

He was pleased to see that the slaves all looked to be in good repair, healthy, free from damage. Their crew was missing a few and he wondered if they'd been taken as personal slaves, or reassigned, or reformatted. The only one he knew for sure about was Bluestreak, who had gotten the reformat he'd begged for. He was now the charge of the Constructicons, being trained to host Mixmaster's establishment as it continued to grow in size and importance. By all accounts the reformatting and assignment had gone better than most. Every time Prowl saw him the other Praxian teeked of genuine good mood, enjoyed his function and was fond of his caretakers. It was a new arrangement and could still sour, but so far Prowl saw none of the issues that occasionally plagued more forceful reformattings.

The slaves stopped for a mid-afternoon fueling a few joors later and sat together in a circle. Jazz had his arm slung around one of the others and Prowl could see his mouth moving like he was singing. 

Smiling and singing. 

What was wrong with that mech?

Prowl mulled over it as their fuelling time finished and the crew went back to work. Perhaps, no, yes, Jazz was still their leader, as most of this crew were former Autobots. His record emphasized his gregarious nature and that he took his unofficial duties as morale officer seriously. It seemed likely that would continue even now. If it really was Jazz's nature, he could not help it any more than Prowl could help to plan.

...Was Jazz attempting to reach out to him? Did the mech perceive his presence in the Decepticon army as unwilling? Was he trying to somehow _help?_

If he was, he understood very little about Prowl and his kind. 

But it was a much more comforting idea than the one that Prowl was being manipulated by a slave for who knew what purpose. 

A soft, longing sigh escaped him as he watched the frame working. The hard work had done nothing to diminish its natural grace. That grace, something Soundwave didn't possess, was definitely a draw. Prowl knew this from other venues. He liked his dancers light and acrobatic rather than larger and steady, though he didn't lust after any of them. It was simply the Praxian aesthetic he was programmed with. It was the same reason he funded far more than his share of crystal research and gardens of all kinds. He spent his credits on things that he found appealing, and found no shame in it.

But Jazz ... that mech was doing something different. Watching him work, the way lightweight armor slid over protoform and cabling was erotic in a way it really should not have been. With a shudder and muted groan Prowl realized that his charge was growing. Guilt panged at him again, and he had to remind himself of Soundwave's promise and trust. The telepath could see into his mind and he wasn't afraid of losing Prowl to a slave. He only wanted his bonded to cope however he could. 

His fingers fumbled only a little as he found his spike cover and snapped it back, giving a harsh x-vent as he took himself in hand and started to stroke. 

The lines, the fluidity of Jazz's movements... Prowl stopped trying to make any sense of why _this_ mech and not any other of the hundreds of graceful mecha on the planet, and sank into the relief after muting his vocalizer.

Sitting on the ground, free of charge for a while, Prow continued to watch until his comm pinged for attention.

::Soundwave,:: Prowl's greeting was warm, always happy to heard from his bonded.

::Prowl.:: Soundwave's voice was just as affectionate, and a little worried. ::It is growing very late. Assistance: desired?::

Prowl couldn't quite hide the startled harmonic as he checked his chronometer, then groaned. ::My apologies, I lost track of time. I will be home in ... half a joor.::

There was a beat of silence, then, ::Buzzsaw: requests to travel with you in that case,:: Soundwave said. ::He cannot fly that fast.::

::Of course. He is welcome in my cab,:: Prowl answered easily as he transformed and opened the passenger door for him.

* * *

Prowl managed to stay away from the slaves for most of half a decaorn, focusing as hard as he could on Soundwave. It even seemed to be getting easier not to think of Jazz, a little. Maybe now that the surprise was gone it wasn't so startling. It still mystified and bewildered him, but when he accepted the thoughts instead of fighting them, he felt calmer, and had an easier time focusing elsewhere. 

That his thoughts always circled back around he tried not to think about. 

So when he found himself driving towards Tarn one orn, he didn't fight it. He let his processors direct him there and stopped once he found the right crew, watching. It wasn't difficult to pick out Jazz, and the surge of that first sight was enough to earn a frustrated grumble from his engine at the surge of charge that cascaded across his circuits. That his tac-net's suggestion amounted to pull him away and 'face him did not help his mood any.

Maybe it would serve the slave right to get what he'd been encouraging. Jazz did this, it was reasonable he should face the fallout too.

With that on his processors, Prowl transformed and walked right for Jazz. Jazz stopped what he was doing and straightened like he'd been expecting Prowl the entire time. He dropped his tool and faced him head-on, something like a smirk on his face. It was enough to cause a flash of anger, but Prowl didn't stop, he simply grabbed Jazz by the arm and pulled him off to an alley nearby. It wasn't exactly private, it wasn't as if anyone was fooled, but it was an illusion Prowl needed in the moment.

Immediately he felt a hand around his wrist and he was pushed back into a wall and Jazz's gaze was hard against his, unrelenting. It wasn't what he'd been expecting. It wasn't even on the credible possibilities list and he knew, much to his annoyance, that it showed.

Jazz smirked, and his field warmed against Prowl's.

It was enough to anger the Praxian and Prowl shoved Jazz down, aiming to pin him much as the guard had.

Jazz went to his knees, let go of Prowl's wrist and moved to palm his spike cover as he went down, and instead of being pushed further, resisted and pressed his mouth there, x-venting. Any irritation Prowl had at the non-compliance was swept away with a low groan of pleasure and the cover slid back to expose a spike that immediately sprang out a third of the way.

It wasn't what he'd planned, but Prowl didn't have it in him to fight if he was getting what his frame needed so badly. Lips closed around the tip and then pressed down, glossa moving in a perfect circle as Jazz took the spike in and grabbed Prowl's hips, shoving them back into the wall. When the tip hit his intake, he swallowed, easily, and Prowl gasped into a low, forcefully muted keen.

Prowl grabbed the helm but made little effort to try and control. As his optics dimmed and focus went inward towards the pleasure, his thumbs began a slow, light rotation around the top sides of Jazz's smooth helm.

Something strange went through the slave's field, but it was gone before Prowl could decipher it and then Jazz's hands moved inward, away from his hips, and slipped up under the abdominal armor and pressed against the wires.

The overload hit so hard and fast Prowl couldn't even try to mute the scream that tore through him with the cascading charge.

Jazz swallowed and rubbed with his glossa, and Prowl could feel the smirk through the slave's _field_. Blue optics looked up, steady and unafraid.

Prowl pinged the slave collar to activate Jazz's vocalizer. "What the pit did you just do?" he rasped out.

Jazz looked back silently for a moment, then carefully pulled off Prowl's spike and sank back into a kneel, hands resting on his knees. "Did it hurt?" 

"No," Prowl answered, still a bit dazed. "What did you _do?_ "

"Sucked y' off," Jazz said, tilting his head, then smirked and lifted one hand, wiggling his fingers. "Or do ya mean with _these?_ "

The game was annoying, but Prowl wanted the answer more than he wanted to punch that smirk off the slave's features. "Yes, that."

Jazz shrugged. "Thought the Lord wanted ta feel good. Didn't it feel good?"

Prowl's engine growled a warning as one fist began to clench. "What did you _do?_ " he demanded again. "How do you know it would feel that good?"

"Thought everyone liked gettin' their spikes sucked," the slave said, optics wide, as he rested his hand back on his knee.

Prowl's temper snapped and he swung at the slave, his fist closing to connect with that innocent looking face that he knew was faked.

It topped him from the kneel and Jazz caught himself on his hands, and Prowl could tell that the shocked sound was as fake as the innocent expression. 

"If ya didn't like it, m'Lord, ah won't do it again."

The growl of Prowl engine deepened and he muted the slave's vocalizer before stalking away to transform and drive home, and still fuming from the encounter when he got there.

Jazz was up to something, and while Prowl didn't know what, he had some idea of it now. Now he just had to work out what to do about it with Soundwave.


	8. Claiming a Personal Slave

Prowl felt calm, settled, sated and centered. His tac-net had crunched all the data he had access to, and afterwards Soundwave had indulged him in a truly processor-blowing series of interfaces that had ended with a hardline while they locked optics and Prowl rode his bonded until they both collapsed.

~Prowl, has a plan?~ Soundwave was curious now that they'd settled down to relax in the warmth of each other's company.

~I have concluded that removing Jazz from the general population will be the best response to his subversive activities,~ Prowl responded, careful to rely heavily on the tac-net's suggestions rather than his personal responses.

Soundwave mulled that over for a klik or so, watching the presented reasons and evidence. ~Agreed,~ he finally said. ~Jazz: seems to be attempting to sway you for unknown reasons. Jazz: is a known leader and manipulator. Contact with other slaves: might not be the wisest to permit.~

~It does bring up the question of how we can control him. I believe it has been established that he is better at manipulating me than I am at avoiding it.~

~Prowl ... wishes to bring him _here?_ ~ Soundwave asked, carefully neutral and only a little surprised.

~Who else but you has any chance of controlling him?~ Prowl asked, the compliment as genuine as it was subtle in Prowl's processors. It was simply a statement of truth to the fact driven mech. 

Soundwave nodded, and carefully kept his thoughts shielded over both mind and hardline connections. Bringing Jazz _here_... 

His spark felt like a lump. Jazz would take Prowl away. 

~Reformatting ... would be safer,~ he said.

~Agreed,~ Prowl responded, and it was clear he _liked_ the idea. ~Reformatting would require us to convince Megatron, and he's done nothing close to warrant it.~

~Perhaps we could convince him to request one,~ Soundwave said, frowning. ~That option: still requires Lord Megatron's permission. Jazz: is one of the Autobots he wishes personal revenge on. A new start: would not satisfy that craving.~'

~Which means we must arrange or provide proof sufficient for Megatron to agree to a forceful reformat, or accept that he will be in our custody for the foreseeable future,~ Prowl sighed.

~Another option: Jazz could be assassinated,~ Soundwave said, edging right to the limit of what he could get away with.

Prowl mulled that over, and though his spark raged against it and his compliance coding snarled, his tac-net had other concerns. ~Who would be blamed?~

~Unknown,~ Soundwave said firmly. Lord Megatron didn't want the slaves killed or harmed. Soundwave could only do and think so much.

~Risky. We are responsible for security. If we fail to bring in the assassin, he will blame us.~ Prowl poked at a half formed thought despite the discomfort for a bit. ~Once he is our slave, we could more easily arrange for a reformat. Our quarters. Our surveillance. Our rules. Least risky to us of the ways to be rid of him.~

Soundwave sighed and nodded. ~You really want him?~ he asked, purposefully vague on the wording.

The response was less a word and more a collection of the reality that was Prowl's relationship with Jazz. He wanted the mech in his berth. He'd long stopped denying it. He hated the idea of him in their home. He hated even more than he was powerless to stop whatever manipulation the slave was doing. He was very fond of the idea of a reformatted Jazz that held the same erotic appeal but lacked the danger. He was sickened that it put so much stress on the mech he loved.

~It does not stress me,~ Soundwave said, with vehemence rarely heard in his voice. He took Prowl's face in his hands and kissed him deeply and reverently. ~There are things about Jazz that Soundwave--~ And then Prowl heard a sharp screech that he knew immediately. 

Compliance code, forbidding the host from speaking further. Soundwave winced and pulled back sharply, trembling, but his optics never lost Prowl's.

~I understand,~ Prowl promised, doing his best to soothe his bonded. He may not understand what Soundwave had attempted to tell him, but he understood compliance coding all too well. There was something about Jazz that Lord Megatron was absolutely desperate for Prowl to never learn.

Since Soundwave could not tell him, it was now on Prowl to find out.

When he teeked the relief stronger than the worry, he knew it was what Soundwave wanted him to do, too. 

* * *

Soundwave took a moment before entering his Lord's private receiving chamber, settling himself and preparing himself for the subtle manipulation that would be needed to convince Megatron that allowing Jazz under their roof was a good idea. 

His Lord would not be pleased, in all probability. 

He pinged. 

"Come," Megatron's voice rumbled as the door opened. 

Soundwave stepped in and walked before the throne, sinking into a respectful kneel for the Lord that he loved, and feared, and served. "My Lord Megatron," he murmured. 

"Soundwave," Megatron's rumble was underlain with warmth and approval. "Stand. What brings you here?"

"The reason: is an unusual request, my Lord," Soundwave said as he straightened, looking up at him. "Soundwave and Prowl: desire to bring the former Autobot Jazz into our possession as our personal slave." 

Surprise flashed across Megatron's features before they hardened somewhat. "Why?"

"Jazz: is playing mind games with Prowl," Soundwave said carefully. "We believe: keeping him in a controlled environment will be beneficial." 

Megatron steepled his fingers and looked at Soundwave over them. "Would not the better answer to be keep them further apart?"

"Prowl: seems to seek him out wherever he is assigned," Soundwave said. "The processes leading him there: are largely subconscious. Distance: enhances the desire. Prowl: is obsessed, and his mental health is suffering for it. Prowl: is aware of the obsession and deeply concerned." 

Megatron hummed. "So the reformatting was not as successful as we had hoped. What part of Prowl recognized Jazz?"

"His spark, my Lord," Soundwave said. 

"And you wish to have them live together," Megatron frowned, confused by the information. "Prowl is still loyal?"

"Prowl: is loyal to you," Soundwave said. "Jazz: cannot hope to convince him otherwise. Soundwave: wishes to ease Prowl's pain in this matter. Under Soundwave's supervision: Jazz's manipulations will not be effective." 

"And if you are wrong?" Megatron pressed.

"Then: Jazz's presence and life will be reevaluated," Soundwave said. "Soundwave: desires Prowl as he is as much as Lord Megatron." 

"Quite likely more," Megatron chuckled. "How do you intend to use him? An enemy commander cannot get off lightly."

"Jazz: willfully sets Prowl's frame alight," Soundwave said with an angry growl in his engine for effect. "Soundwave: plans to see that it serves the function of sating it as well." 

That made the warlord laugh. "I expect to see a few good vids of this. I've never seen Prowl behave like a real mech in interfacing before."

"Soundwave: assures his Lord Megatron that Prowl is satisfactorily normal in such situations," Soundwave said, voice flat and even. "Soundwave: will have Prowl's permission before recordings are taken, unless my Lord commands otherwise." 

"So long as he does consent," Megatron chuckled, trying rather hard not to think about what Soundwave and Prowl interfacing was like. "Fine, take the mech as your personal slave. Just see to it he does no damage to the empire and is punished suitably for his defiance."

"Thank you, my Lord Megatron," Soundwave said with relief. "Soundwave: will see to it. Does Lord Megatron: have any methods of punishment in mind?"

"Anything that makes him miserable. That hurts his will. That ends his spirit's desire to continue," Megatron rumbled eagerly. "I am sure you can come up with many ideas for such punishments."

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Soundwave said, bowing deeply. "Thank you, Lord Megatron."

* * *

Soundwave walked into the holding facilities where Jazz was being kept and looked around, pleased with the upkeep of the building and its systems. He expressed his purpose to the head supervisor and was immediately allowed in and shown the way. 

"Slave 35712," Soundwave said as he looked into the cell at the pathetic, colorless frame. "You: are to come with me." 

Jazz looked at him, helm cocked, then shrugged. "Didna think ya needed a fucktoy. Prowl's hot as the smelter when he gets going."

"Slave 35712: misunderstands my purpose," Soundwave said. "You: are to be a slave, nothing, for our amusement. You: are to be kept out of society. Stripped of influence." 

"Kinda can't have both, ya know? If I'm amusing, I am influencing." Jazz was simply enjoying the word games.

"Come with me," Soundwave said, and opened the cell before walking away, trusting Jazz to follow. He could hear it in the mech's processors. Jazz wasn't intending to run. He wasn't disappointed in his assessment. The slave padded along after him, far less concerned than Soundwave believed he should be, but Jazz had a long lifetime of beating the odds in so many ways. His arrogance was well-earned.

Soundwave would see to it that this time, the arrogant former commander would not have his goals. 

When they were outside, and away from the front door, Soundwave made sure that all of Jazz's collars and viruses were uploaded and then waited for the next transport. When they were well into the wastelands between Tarn and Kaon, Soundwave abruptly signaled the automated vehicle to stop, grabbed Jazz, and hauled him outside before throwing him onto his back in the dust. "Jazz: will not have my bonded," he rumbled.

"Understood, m'Lord," the monoformer went lax and passive in frame, but his processors were moving fast, erratic and in the same kind of fluid chaos that made him, and most Seekers, nearly impossible to read accurately for long.

"Prowl and Soundwave: will sparkbond some orn," the host nearly growled. "The legal bond: is solid. Prowl: is unhappy and anxious because of _you._ "

Jazz looked up to meet Soundwave's optic band solidly. "His spark is unsettled because it knows yours isn't the right one. It knows what he doesn't. Yet. Doubt it'll make a difference when he finds out."

"Jazz: is wrong," Soundwave said flatly. "Prowl's spark: is mine. Your presence: is only creating discord in him in response to familiar stimuli. Your mate: is gone."

"Ah know," and Jazz purposefully stilled most of his thoughts so the truth of that rang out clearly to the telepath. "All that's left is ta get his spark on the same screen as his processors. Ya _know_ you'll win. Same reason ya knew he'd be loyal ta Megatron. He has no choice. He never did."

"No," Soundwave agreed. "Prowl: never did have a choice in his loyalty. Jazz: should act the slave unless he wishes to cause more distress in that spark."

Jazz gave a shrug and relaxed his processors back into their natural state. "Is all ah've been doing. Good little slave."

"Good," Soundwave said. "Do not stress him. Do not hurt him. Do not engage him unless he approaches you. Soundwave: will be watching."

"Gotcha." Jazz gave a small nod. "So whatcha want me ta be doin', 'sides not goin' near Prowl?"

"Nothing," Soundwave said, and pointed back at the transport. "Jazz: will be as a drone. As he should have been before."

Jazz gave the host a look that spoke more clearly of his curiosity than his mind did and complied.

* * *

Prowl stared at the screen showing the inside of the small enclosed room that Jazz was being kept in. The former saboteur was in their home, locked away in a space no bigger than his cell had been, and with even less of a view. It was enclosed all around with thick steel panels, portions of which could lift away and be filled with energy fields to allow Jazz to see out, or others to see in.

Jazz was here. Prowl could do whatever he wanted. Provided Jazz could be returned to a healthy working state when he was done. 

Anything. 

There were ways to hurt that did no lasting damage. There were ways to torment that didn't even involve touching. Prowl knew enough of the sentimental Autobot's comrades to torment him for orns with stories and images. 

But ... he didn't want to.

It was infuriating on one level and troubling on another. What Decepticon didn't enjoy tormenting the enemy? What kind of mecha didn't want revenge for suffering?

A soft-sparked, weak one was what, and Prowl rejected that description with all he was. He was not weak. He was not soft. He'd whipped the Decepticons into a valid fighting force and ended a millennia-long war inside his first vorn online.

The smart thing to do would be to pretend Jazz wasn't there. The wise thing to do was to turn to his bonded mate when desire began to burn in him.

Prowl knew he was smart, and he believed he was reasonably wise, but neither of those options had enough desire behind them to take hold.

He couldn't stop _wanting_.

That was all he could do. 

_Want_ the slave. 

The fact that there was a significant amount of question as to Jazz's motivations, methods, and history just made it worse. Prowl hated unsolved questions. 

With an almost disgusted sigh with himself he got up and went into the room where Jazz's cell was and stared at the wall, then triggered one of the panels to snap up. Jazz's optics spiraled shut with the sudden increase in light before adjusting and evening out again. He looked up, and then just looked as Prowl marveled once more at the grace and flexibility of the frame. Even stripped of so many upgrades and features, Jazz was sitting in the middle of the small room with crossed legs.

They stared for another klik, then Prowl stalked forward and around Jazz, pausing behind him. He felt the careful teek that was thorough without being invasive, almost unnoticeable, and then silently, no sound from even his frame, Jazz lowered forward, legs unfolding gracefully from beneath his frame. When he settled, braced on his elbows, helm to the floor and aft up, his valve cover slid away. 

Prowl's hand found the curve of his aft, then hip, then gripped both sides tightly as he slammed forward with a grunt, burying himself in that single movement.

A short x-vent was the only response, and one he could only hear because how utterly silent they both were in all other ways. He felt the shape of the valve shift around him, and then it was perfectly molded to his length and thickness. Each ridge felt like it was in its own groove. It was just slick enough that there would be no damage. Just slick enough to feel genuinely good as he pulled out. His entire focus on the roll of pleasure radiating up from his spike.

Well, most of it. 

Part of his processor couldn't help but notice and comment on how the internal shape of the valve moved flawlessly with him. The grooves flowed with his spike, and instead of decreasing the total stimulation, as he might have expected, it actually was increasing it. The calipers were so fine and placed so tightly together that their rotating was providing all the stimulation he needed, all while lessening the amount of movement that Prowl even needed to put into the interface. 

It had to be a pleasurebot upgrade. Something they wouldn't have bothered stripping out.

The low groan of pleasure that escaped Prowl on his third thrust surprised him, and he leaned forward. Not quite covering the slave, but coming closer with each successive thrust. Above them doorwings fluttered and quivered with the first tingling of excess charge reaching him.

Through it all, Jazz didn't move, made no sound, kept his field tight and blank. It was like spiking a very, very well made toy and it made it both easier and harder, but it left Prowl with the blessed confirmation that he much preferred a lover to a toy. This felt physically amazing, but past the release of the charge, it wasn't _satisfying_.

As he overloaded, before his vision whited out, he saw Jazz's fingers curling into fists on the floor, scraping over it. 

When he came down from the current, panting, he felt Jazz shift. 

"Would m'Lord like me ta clean off his spike before he retracts?" the slave asked politely.

"Yes," Prowl decided, already feeling his arousal build on the memories of the last time he'd felt that very talented mouth. He'd work out what Jazz had been trying to hold back as Prowl overloaded later.

Jazz nodded silently and waited for Prowl to pull out before shifting back up onto his knees and turning around. He settled aft-on-pedes, transfluid dripping onto them and the floor, and looked up at Prowl as he leaned in, pressing his glossa to the base of the lubricant- and transfluid-covered spike, licking up. 

The tip was caressed and circled as every drop was licked away.

Prowl looked back, transfixed by the movements as he struggled to remain still. He knew it was intended to be a care ritual. Knew it and couldn't help the intense arousal that came with _this_ mecha actively pleasuring him. It was nothing like filling his valve. As good as that felt, it was absent of care.

This, this was so very different.

Prowl barely realized what he was doing until his hands were on Jazz's helm and he drew those lovely lip plates to the tip of his spike. Blue optics shifted up, dark and intense, and Jazz's mouth parted just a little. Prowl's spike rested on his lower lip and his glossa darted out, flicking against the tip in careful, light little licks that made Prowl shudder and his vents hitch. His optics locked on those lips, he pressed forward, far more slowly than before, but still a firm message of what he expected.

The lips parted easily, Jazz's optics never once moving or flickering from his gaze up at Prowl. He hummed as the spike filled his mouth and slowly ran his hands up Prowl's thighs, settling them on his hips and teasing into the joints. Just like the last time, Prowl relaxed into the pleasuring, allowing Jazz to do much of the work, but also having much of the control. 

A soft flick of Prowl's thumbs circled where Jazz's sensor horns had been as Prowl moaned, low and aroused, at the slave's efforts. The helm bobbed and Jazz's field flickered a little, but none of it showed in his efforts. He was as devoted as a pleasurebot to the task, rhythmic without being predictable, creative without being distracting. It didn't take much before Prowl's grip tightened and his hips began to thrust. It was still fairly light, Jazz still had full control of his actions, but even without the flares in Prowl's field, it was warning enough that the mech didn't have long.

"Yes, just like that, my pet," Prowl's voice was a long groan.

He felt a flicker of--surprise?--through Jazz's field, before the intake tightened around him and swallowed down, creating a tight suction. The fingers moved up to his abdomen and slipped right into the sensitive places.

It worked exactly as it did before, as it always had. Rub just the right spot and Prowl would go from enjoying his charge to overload in a matter of a few strokes.

The slave was ready for it, when the keening screech of shock morphed into a roar of bliss as Prowl's grip tightened and reflex took over. Not one piece of him flickered or faltered and he swallowed with each burst, holding until Prowl slumped over him. Then he eased off the spike, pausing right at the end to flick his tongue against the tip again. A last drop of transfluid got on his lower lip before it was cleaned away. Then he let go entirely, settling back on his pedes, hand in his lap. "All clean, m'Lord." 

There was a moment as Prowl had to orient himself, and he nodded, though to what was difficult to assess even for him. His spike retracted and he walked out, ordering the wall panel closed behind him.

He wanted his mate. He wanted _Soundwave's_ spike. And pit have it, he wanted to snuggle.

The last time he'd been too upset to notice how emotionally unsatisfying it was, but it was impossible for Prowl not to notice now. No matter how Jazz enflamed his lusts, his desire and contentment came with Soundwave. His mate, his bonded, a mecha who was entirely too understanding at times. Prowl knew he could never be so calm if it was Soundwave who found himself so attracted to another.

He found the host waiting in their berthroom, calm as he turned away from the monitors in the small work station he kept in there. He made no effort to hide that he had been watching Jazz's cell. "My love," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Far more agitated than I should be," Prowl grumbled, his thoughts largely unguarded as he pressed against Soundwave and stretched up for a kiss. "It's physically amazing, and emotionally...." _empty-not right-lacking-unsettling-valve like a toy-mouth is better_.

"Jazz: was well known for the skills he gained by being promiscuous," Soundwave said, stroking Prowl's helm. "Soundwave: is not surprised." A pause as Soundwave regarded him. "Soundwave: must say that he enjoyed watching Prowl in pleasure. Prowl: may keep part of Soundwave with him in those moments by remembering that." 

"You did?" Prowl's field flushed with a mixture of pleasure and sharp arousal as thoughts of display for, and then with, his mate circulated through his thoughts. It didn't quite reach the point of watching Jazz perform while interfacing with Soundwave, but the potential was clearly there to the more experienced mecha. Prowl, visual creature that he was, would eventually work his way to the fact that watching another in pleasure was an intense turn on for him. It was only a matter of time and experience.

It posed an interesting question to Soundwave about the nature of personal desires and he wondered if Prowl had been interested in this same thing with his previous personality. There had certainly been enough footage of Prowl and Jazz to delete from the records, which had made Soundwave judge Jazz's stealth abilities rather harshly. He would have thought a mecha of Jazz's skill could avoid getting caught by so many cameras. 

Had it been on purpose, he wondered? That actually made more sense than Jazz being caught by accident in his own headquarters.

"Soundwave: does," he answered his bonded with a kiss. "Soundwave: will indulge Prowl's desires now."

He didn't need to ask what those desires were. Being a telepath did have its perks, as the images sang in Prowl's mind. "Berth," Soundwave murmured, turning Prowl and pushing him towards it, a hand on his chest. His bonded rumbled with anticipation and gracefully settled on his back on the large, soft berth, his arms raised to welcome Soundwave to him.

Optics met optics and the kiss was heated, though for Soundwave the true cause of arousal was how much Prowl desired _him_. Jazz was a draw, an addiction of sorts, but every time Prowl came close to Soundwave there was no question about his loyalty, devotion or desires. It was a blessing that made it easy for Soundwave to view Jazz as a limited threat rather than a critical one, and allowed Soundwave to watch Prowl indulge with Jazz without jealousy.

If Prowl liked being watched, all the better. 

Their optics stayed locked as Soundwave sank in and Prowl shuddered with a soft gasp and a surge of pleasure that was all for Soundwave.

* * *

Prowl and Soundwve curled together on their berth, exchanging hardlines as they looked at each other, the cables taken with great care and caressed before they were plugged in. 

~Lord Megatron: will be paying attention to our treatment of the Autobot slave,~ Soundwave said.

Prowl paused and unwound that statement and the intent. ~We are too kind to him?~

~Affirmative,~ Soundwave said. ~Autobot Jazz: is an officer worthy of punishment and suffering for his rebellion against the one true Lord and Master of Cybertron. If he is not being forced into harsh and publicly humiliating physical labor, he should suffer in other ways. His life: is currently relatively pleasant.~

~Do you have a solution, other than changing our treatment?~ Prowl asked. He was open to changing it, but the idea left him unsettled. Even raised Decepticon, he still was hardcoded with Praxian morals. Just what they were doing already was pushing his ability to handle it long term.

Soundwave hummed a pleased series of notes, almost like a giggle. ~Soundwave: has 'accidentally' shown Lord Megatron the security keys to our private surveillance system. Lord Megatron: may get to witness the brutality he desires. Of course: his access is will be regrettably sporadic in its reliability. That feed: is prone to glitches which happen to take the form of pre-recordings of Jazz in forced solitude.~

Prowl relaxed and smiled, delighted by his bonded's subterfuge and what it meant for him. ~And for the brutality?~ he asked with a bit of unease. He could be incredibly savage by his own assessment, but it took intense frustration to get him there. Jazz simply didn't provide any frustration by his actions.

~Jazz is very ... hardy,~ Soundwave said thoughtfully. ~Autobot Special Operations training: is intense. Jazz: will handle whatever we can do to him. However: much can be exaggerated for the viewing. We must: keep Lord Megatron content.~

~Agreed,~ Prowl addressed the last point first. ~A little more forceful than usual and it can be made to look like he is being damaged.~ He paused as something from his base upload of data flashed up. It was a criminal case horrific and important enough that every Enforcer created afterwards had it included in their default files. It had details that were applicable here.

Prowl carefully shared the file. He didn't want to traumatize his bonded even as he knew Soundwave must have seen far worse during the war. A mech was bound, hands and knees on a support that put his valve and mouth right at spike level for an average mecha. It and the mech were contained in a small space with no light and only one door that slid open when the abductor wished to use his prisoner. Notes included that the mech was fueled by a line directly into his main tank.

The connotations made Prowl sick, but the fundamental setup, if used in the context of an illusion, could be viewed as a very cruel punishment.

Soundwave nodded slowly. ~Such an arrangement: would be most suitable,~ he said. ~Soundwave: can soothe Jazz's trepidation over the setup. Jazz: will not be bothered, Soundwave is sure.~

~He is a survivor. I doubt he will need to be in there long to obtain the footage you need for the covers in the feed,~ Prowl suggested. He could do it. It was an act, something completely different from the crime that had inspired it.

Soundwave flickered agreement through his field. ~Soundwave: remembers the news of that crime. All of Cybertron: knew. Megatron: will be pleased.~

~Good,~ Prowl relaxed a bit more and packaged all the file but that one image they intended to replicate back into deep memory. ~How many scenes should we play out for our Lord to enjoy?~

~Soundwave believes: an orns' worth of footage will satisfy for some time,~ Soundwave said. ~Twelve scenes.~ He sent over a list of brief images and descriptions. 

Prowl skimmed them and it wasn't hard to tell which ones would put his acting skills to the test and which ones might be much more regular occurrences. Not a single reaction surprised Soundwave, though the intensity of arousal to the idea of watching Soundwave be pleasured was a bit high.

~I can manage what's required,~ Prowl agreed. Has Lord Megatron begun watching yet?~

~Affirmative,~ Soundwave said. ~He has seen only solitude. His log-ins: are growing more frequent.~

~Then perhaps we should begin with a simple scene tonight when he is logged in, and request the building of his new space in the morning,~ Prowl suggested as he pulled up a scene of him taking Jazz's mouth. ~That I suggested it may improve his view of me.~

Soundwave nuzzled him. ~Agreed.~

* * *

It was two joors later when Soundwave received the warning that Megatron had brought up the program to view their use of the slave they housed. ::Prowl: Lord Megatron watches.::

Silent as his designation, Prowl nodded and got up. His mind was full of thoughts of Soundwave and their pleasure, along with memories of Jazz's skill as he walked to the room he had only visited a handful of times. One panel slid open and he stepped inside, trusting his mate to give their slave any warning Jazz needed. It wouldn't do for Jazz to look too comfortable doing this.

Jazz's optics flickered on and he looked up, watching Prowl silently, glancing between face and spike. 

Good, Soundwave had apparently given him some instruction. 

::Do not be very gentle,:: Soundwave said on encrypted comm.

::Understood,:: Prowl replied as he grabbed Jazz's helm in both hands and thrust into the slightly open mouth. Jazz's intake convulsed around his spike and dragged a strangled groan from Prowl before he began to chase his release in a way that didn't come easily to him. He had to keep his focus on Soundwave and more consensual acts to keep it up until the stimulation reached the tipping point where he didn't have to _like_ how he was getting the pleasure to get off on it.

That Jazz fought him the entire time only made it harder. 

::I like watching you take him,:: Soundwave purred into his comms, on a frequency that they both knew Megatron could hack into if he chose, and then a low, pleasured rumble came through over the encrypted line. Desire and lust filled those harmonics, just barely audible over Prowl's deep moan.

Those six words from that source did more than anything else could to drive Prowl to thrust harder, even deeper, and when the overload came he arched his frame and roared with Jazz's face mashed against his array with his full strength. He felt the blunted claws against his thighs as Jazz tensed and jerked, and Soundwave's deep approval hummed in his processors. 

When he let go, Jazz pulled off and spat his transfluid onto the ground, glaring up at him. His frame shook in minute trembles, and there was a visible effort of fighting them.

Prowl gave a smile he'd been told on more than one occasion was very unsettling and left without making a sound.

* * *

::Lord Megatron,:: Soundwave commed his Lord. 

::Yes, Soundwave?::

::Circumstances have brought to my attention: that you have been viewing the activities inside our home,:: Soundwave said. ::Query: are we under investigation?::

::Only in how you are treating your slave,:: Megatron chuckled. ::I'm enjoying what I see.::

Soundwave sent a bright flash of comprehension across. ::Soundwave: understands,:: he said, then added, ::Perhaps Lord Megatron would enjoy seeing our current project.::

::Quite likely,:: Megatron replied as he logged in and found the camera in a different place than before. ::Where is this?::

::A newly-constructed space,:: Soundwave said. ::It will be: a feature in our living room. Jazz: will be placed inside, bound and left.::

::Even better than his current boredom. Where did this thought come from?:: Megatron rumbled a bit more eagerly as hissing and clangs became audible.

::Prowl: found it in an old standard case file from Praxus,:: Soundwave said. ::Soundwave: was wary but Prowl insisted.:: He glanced at the camera to see Jazz being wrestled into place, apparently fighting the new conditions. The pair were giving an excellent show, though it didn't take Prowl all that long to force Jazz down onto the support beam for Jazz's torso with his higher mass and soon had the struggling slave well secured.

A swift move tore Jazz's valve cover off and then Prowl was driving into the tight space with more frustration evident than Soundwave was sure was really there. Jazz was doing a good job displaying pain and distress that wasn't real as well.

::I approve of this new arrangement,:: Megatron purred. ::In fact, I find myself rather inspired. Please send my gratitude and appreciation along to Prowl.::

::Soundwave: will, my Lord,:: Soundwave responded with a harmonic of gratitude. ::Prowl: will be pleased our Lord approves.::

The line closed, but Soundwave kept track of whether Megatron was logged in to view, something he did on and off for the next six joors. Prowl was correct, not that Soundwave had doubted the assessment, that Megatron would want to make sure that Jazz would remain in the tiny, dark cell. The feed would remain recording until just before they allowed Jazz out the next evening.

That by morning they had recordings of Ravage taking Jazz's valve and the twins taking turns with his mouth, all done with the same lack of care the vids for Megatron required was a bonus. By the time they went to remove Jazz, they watched the end of Ravage thrusting into his mouth, her claws digging into his shoulders for support. They allowed the recorder to continue until she finished and pushed the stand and its cargo back into the small closet. The recording had enough time to settle into the difficult-to-distinguish still darkness that was Jazz's life between uses as far as Megatron knew.

"Soundwave: believes that will be enough," Soundwave said after he cut the recording and cycled the camera's feed back around to a compilation he had already made of Jazz shifting and recharging. All in the name of keeping their Lord happy, even if it was through deception. "Jazz: performed well," he said as a compliment as he knelt down to open up the contraption and release the cuffs around his wrists. 

The mute slave nodded.

"Vocalizer is on," Prowl said as he leaned against the wall behind Jazz, admiring the view of the aft and bared valve as Jazz's frame objected to moving. "Do you require any medical attention?"

Jazz huffed a laugh. "Nah, mech," he said, and groaned as he lowered his arms. "Ah mean, m'Lord." He flicked one of his optics in a wink when Ravage came over and sat down in front of him, watching. "Y'always were a little terror," he told her, touching the scratches on his shoulders. 

The rumble that came from Ravage was of amusement, and then Soundwave stared at her, his visor bright. Slowly, he shifted focus. "Jazz: length of time interfacing with Ravage."

Prowl's optic ridge went up, but he held silent.

"Thought y' woulda known, Sounders," Jazz drawled as he slowly backed off his perch and settled into a kneel. "She's _your_ symbiot."

"Symbiots: allowed privacy," Soundwave said defensively as he looked down at the felinoid. "Freedom: perhaps a mistake."

She hissed at him and Prowl saw what passed for a flinch cross Soundwave's frame.

"Hey, the war got boring as slag," Jazz said with a grin. "Nothin' ta find, nothin' ta do but beat the scrap outta each other. Swappin' favors an' secrets ... well, it livened things up a bit. Nothin' important, mind ya." 

Ravage managed to look smug and Soundwave let it drop. "Slave: to his room."

"Yes m'Lord," Jazz crooned before heading out. Ravage waited a beat, and then slipped after him. 

Soundwave frowned after them before looking to Prowl. "Jazz: has great potential to be dangerous." 

"We knew that when we brought him here, but I can't blame Ravage for wanting the attention," Prowl said quietly as he stepped forward to lean against Soundwave with affection. "Just how many options does she really have to get a spike?"

"Her siblings: are her size and not known manipulators," Soundwave muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Her siblings have each other," Prowl pointed out reasonably. "She's the only single one. Maybe if she has a quad sibling it would change," he purred slightly. While the intent wasn't to create one now, it was a blatant reminder that Soundwave had suggested it and Prowl wanted it when they were both ready.

Soundwave cocked his head in thought, then his facemask pulled back and he smiled slightly. "Prowl: is right," he said, holding his arms out and purred a deep rumble when Prowl snuggled against his chest and returned the embrace, mind and field open to mingling. "Thoughts on this operation so far?"

"Stressful, but successful. We will need more scenes. Perhaps Jazz can suggest some. He's far more ... experienced than either of us."

"Agreed," Soundwave said with a sigh, stroking Prowl's helm. "Soundwave: is still concerned about him manipulating you. His purpose and methodology: are still undiscovered."

Prowl lightly pressed into the touch with a contented sigh. "I'm counting on you to catch any manipulations before they become a problem. I'm still working on another solution, but our options are limited given our orders."

"Understood," Soundwave murmured.

* * *

Megatron rumbled into a chuckle as he watched the feed coming from Soundwave and Prowl's home. He liked switching between the rooms and checking on the ornly goings-on, and loved when he got lucky enough to catch some of the action with one of the most hated slaves. 

Even though at first he'd been worried about allowing the former Autobot into that household, he was now delighted about the decision and its results. And he'd learned a few things, always useful. 

Prowl was unquestionably a voyeur. He was currently standing near the entryway to the living room, watching his legal bonded and Megatron's true SIC spike the slave's mouth. Jazz was immobilized in the cabinet of sorts they now stored him in, a proper frag-toy. Prowl's gaze never left Soundwave's frame, which meant that he was watching Jazz as well. Yet the hand on his spike was stroking slowly and it was delightfully clear which one he was getting off to.

Megatron was also fairly sure that Soundwave was doing this for those watching and to hurt Jazz than for his own enjoyment. Honestly, the Praxian was good for him. It was tiny things most of the time, but Megatron could tell that his most trusted and dedicated officer was enjoying the rewards of his efforts. It was good to see Soundwave rewarded in a normal way.

Watching him use the Autobot SIC made it all the better.

A hard rev from Prowl's engine caused Soundwave to look more firmly his way and abruptly the pace picked up.

Was Soundwave getting off on being watched? That would be a strange discovery, Megatron mused, but knew it was more likely he was just enjoying his mate's pleasure. Just like Prowl was. 

They were ridiculously, stupidly good for each other. The warlord rolled his optics to himself. It was kind of sickening sometimes.

Soundwave's overload came fast after that, his grip on the slave's helm tight. Then Prowl was against him, fingers working between armor plates as he drew Soundwave away, out of visual range but within audio. The groans and clank of metal proved that. It left little to watch but Jazz's transfluid-smeared face as he watched the pair in pleasure.

And _oh_ , the agony on it. Megatron couldn't stop the purring as Jazz stared at the mech that had once been his mate in every way. It was absolutely gorgeous. The _longing_ there. 

He wondered what Prowl thought about the slave staring at them like that, and then wondered if he'd even notice given his own lust towards that same slave. That stilled his purr. Jazz knew and Prowl's spark knew. If he didn't trust Soundwave so much he'd never allow the two former Autobots near each other. He forced himself to focus on the agony etched in Jazz's face plates. If anything, Soundwave's desire to keep _this_ Prowl for himself would ensure that Prowl never learned. Megatron still held their loyalty coding. It was all that mattered in the end.

He had to admit, the pair had a savage streak worthy of any Decepticon when it came to their slave. Megatron congratulated himself with a smug smirk and looked forward to many more joors spent watching this household. 

* * *

Post scene, when the cameras turned off and their space was truly theirs again, was Prowl's favorite time. Pretending to be cruel to a not-exactly-willing-or-enthusiastic mech, no matter how much he knew was acting, was draining. As much as he got from the pleasure, watching, and being watched, they were a stressful event for him. 

Which was why, after making sure Jazz needed no repairs and giving him a chance to request additional aid, he and Soundwave always cuddled up together, usually on the floor, to pet and shower each other with emotional care. The slave was ignored, although there was a strange satisfaction to proving to him over and over that no matter what tricks he played, Prowl was Soundwave's. 

The emotional pain that occasionally flickered across frame or faceplates was also rewarding after all the grief he'd caused the bonded pair.

"Any thoughts on the next scene?" Prowl asked languidly, content in his bonded's arms and field.

"Lord Megatron: has expressed interest into why the cassettes are not seen with him more," Soundwave said, thinking out loud instead of projecting the ideas. "Additionally: he enjoys scenes in which the slave is hurt more than simply used. Mood: is significantly improved after viewing such scenes." 

Prowl groaned his distaste for such scenes, but he flicked his doorwings in understanding. "What about letting the cassettes hunt him around the apartment?"

"Interesting," Soundwave said as he took in the cassettes' enthusiastic agreement with the idea. 

"Y'know, ya put too much effort inta hurtin' me," Jazz said suddenly, causing both of them to look sharply in his direction. He didn't talk during recovery and aftercare. Staying in the same room after being freed was unusual enough, but he was still there, sitting with his back to the box, looking at the wall."There's tools ta make it easier."

"The ones I know _would_ require a medic to put you back together," Prowl responded, curious that the subject of abuse would volunteer ideas.

"Betcha Sounders knows what ah'm talkin' about," Jazz purred. "He did more'n a few Autobots." 

"Interrogation: necessity of war," Soundwave said stiffly. 

"Ah, yeah, mech, yeah, I totally getcha," Jazz said, voice like a lazy grin. "No judgment here. Tools'a the trade, m'ah right?" 

Soundwave x-vented. "Electricity, direct current, can be intensely painful." 

"Y'wanna fuck me with a cattle prod?" Jazz asked in an easy drawl. "Oh, _Sounders._ Take me now."

Prowl flat out recoiled when he could finally process what Jazz meant and made it halfway up the back of the couch before Soundwave caught him and rather forcefully calmed his processors down. Prowl's vents were still working hard, but he was steady again as he stared at the slave.

_SickSickSickSICK!_

Jazz was quiet, listening to the rustling that he couldn't see very well for a klik or so. "Didn't'cha ever read up on me?" he asked. "Y'know war isn't all tactics and love, right?"

"I read ... this isn't...."

"Situation: comparable," Soundwave suddenly said even as he continued to work to calm down his bonded. He focused on Jazz. "Prowl: not an interrogator. Prowl: dislikes causing pain. Prowl: tactician, Enforcer. Prowl: not meant to _hurt_."

"Sometimes we all gotta do things we never thought we were meant ta do," Jazz said, and his voice had turned to ice. "Sometimes we lose parts of ourselves and our lives we never thought war would take. _Sometimes_ life sucks exhaust an y'make do. And _sometimes_ , y'gotta be the one makin' someone's life suck exhaust, isn't that right, Sounders?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave responded, his bland tone full of that cruel knowledge. "Query: Jazz has other suggestions?"

"What!" Prowl looked at his bonded in shock, but the horror roiling through his processors was more evident to Soundwave.

"Ya tryin' ta convince Megabuckethead that ah'm suitably miserable, right?" Jazz said, twisting around to look right at Prowl. 

"Affirmative," Prowl answered warily.

Jazz gave a nod. "Y'gonna need some ideas. Ya seem like ya gotta sweet spark, Prowler, but ya definitely fall for mecha with some bad sides. Ah can help. Ah've got ideas."

"Why?" Prowl demanded, as Soundwave continued to push _calm_ across. "Why would you do that?" 

"Ah wanna help ya. An' as for that, leave my motivations ta me," Jazz said. "'Sides, if ah suggest it, ya know ah can take it."

Prowl glared at him, then gave a huff and settled against his bonded. "All right. What tools?"

Jazz grinned brightly. "Always keep a cattle prod around. Wire strippers if ya got 'em. Jumper cables. Sharp things. Knives're good. Big spikes. Like really big. Intimidatin'." Jazz lounged back onto his elbows. "Even gettin' stripped ah gotta good self-repair system. Y'should show hesitation every time it gets a bit worse," he told Prowl. "An' then _you_..." He grinned at Soundwave. "You just tell 'im how happy it'll make the Lord."

"My part won't be difficult," Prowl muttered. "This is sick."

"Soundwave: will speak the truth," the host agreed, then hummed his frame softly to cause Prowl to relax a bit further. ~You have caused damaged, killed slowly before.~

~Not like this. They had angered _me_.~ Prowl sighed with an air of resignation. ~He's ... getting off on this.~

~Jazz: is playing his role,~ Soundwave said firmly.

~Still creepy,~ Prowl grumbled, more to himself than his mate. "So we have me learning how to strip a mecha, the cassettes hunting him."

"Ravage: riding his spike." Soundwave added.

"That sounds fun," Jazz said, looking between them. "Ah'm excited. Y' excited?"

Prowl gave him a _look_ that spoke volumes, and none of it positive.

"Negative," Soundwave said simply. "Slave: will return to its room."

Jazz shrugged and saluted as he rolled up to his pedes and disappeared. 

"We: can stop this if you are too disturbed," Soundwave said firmly as soon as he heard the door close. "Motivations for bringing Jazz: to explore his manipulation. Soundwave: would be more than happy to reassign him."

"Another reason we brought him here was so I wouldn't spend as much time looking for him," Prowl sighed. "As much as I'd like to not deal with him, we established rather effectively that distance won't accomplish that."

"Jazz: seems to be purposefully trying to repel you," Soundwave grumbled.

"Or simply give me a massive processor ache trying to correlate it to his previous behavior," Prowl muttered as he snuggled closer. "Honestly I think he's just trying to do all he can to mess with any and every Decepticon he can. I'm not sure I can really blame him for such desires either. I know I would try my best to make the Autobots regret my presence without actually breaking any rules if the situation was reversed."

Soundwave sighed. "Jazz: has always been chaotic and agitating," he said. "Soundwave: cannot blame him either."


	9. Rewritten

Life was very dull, Jazz mused as he stared at the blank wall on the inside of his closet. 

Not the frag-toy closet, at least. That one made his joints ache. This one at least had a berth and room to stretch, if little else in the way of entertainment.

Not that he was complaining. Mecha of his profession understood dull, and how to utilize it. Dull meant there was time to plan, or that a plan was in motion. For Jazz, it was the latter. And it was a long, long plan. The moment he'd felt Prowl's field pull at his all those vorns ago in the street he'd started working on it. Prowl's spark remembered him, at least in some way. His mate was dead, he had long come to terms with that, but he still had power over this mech. And he _understood_ this mech. Vorns of careful testing had proven this Prowl to be very similar to his previous self, which probably meant the coding was the same. Jazz knew how to work that code. He could use Prowl, and maybe even Soundwave, if he was good enough. 

Convincing Prowl to bring him into his home had been the easy part. The mech obsessed on abnormalities and anything he didn't fully understand. Getting Jazz close enough to study in controlled conditions was an inevitable outcome. 

Getting Prowl to trust him....

That was going to take time. Jazz just hoped there was still a planet to save by then.

He was sitting on the berth with his arms wrapped around his knees when a wall panel, the one Prowl favored, slid open to reveal the Praxian and Jazz already knew he wasn't here for a frag. That had a teek all of its own.

"M'Lord," he drawled, shifting back onto his elbows and letting his legs fall apart anyway.

Prowl, for possibly the first time, ignored the display-offer-enticement. Instead he took the few steps to the berth and pushed a datapad towards Jazz. "Fill in the missing parts and correct the mistakes as best you can."

Jazz's optics flicked in a surprised blink before he took the datapad and straightened back up, crossing his legs. "This is my file."

"I know. It was heavily damaged at some point," Prowl paused at the move few could manage and briefly admired the grace and flexibility required. "I've highlighted what I know has missing information. There may be entire sections that are gone as well."

"Ah'll say," Jazz said as he scanned through it. Entire chunks of his life, gone. Almost everything after he'd met Prowl that wasn't dry assignment data. "Why d'ya want it?"

"Because I do," Prowl said and turned to leave his slave to the task.

Jazz rolled his optics and started looking at the piecemeal summary of his life, reading slowly and considering carefully. 

One of the very first things he added was the vorn he'd moved to Praxus, and details on his numerous arrests. Cities he'd traveled to with Prowl were inserted with dates and lengths of stays.

Property purchases in Praxus, a career. 

He included his participation in the Fall of Praxus.

Near the beginning of the war, he added the legal bonding request they had filed with the young new Prime, and the blessing that it had received. He didn't include a designation.

He paused, then came back to that. Leaving it out would cause Prowl to hound him relentlessly until he got a designation. It was easy to pass off not remembering who'd arrested you so long before the war, but to not recall your bonded's designation or refuse to include it? No, Prowl would never stand for that.

He tapped his finger against his lower lip, then added a much more subtle reference to the larger property purchases, putting them under the tax code for two mecha jointly owning. The legal bonding was shifted to an official enlistment number, one that also corresponded with two mecha, if Prowl ever cared to look that close.

He continued to add and tweak, filling in more truth than he ever expected to offer about himself and his existence.

Towards the end, matching the time that this Prowl would have come online, he added that his bonded had deactivated in battle.

The hints were all there. Praxian, Enforcer, the timing, their status. Yet not a glyph of it actually _said_ Prowl's frame had a rather long and very decorated and deeply loved existence before this Prowl took over. Not a glyph that he could get in trouble for, or that Prowl could be in trouble for reading. He wanted Prowl to realize what had happened, but not all at once, and not before he was ready. The danger that he'd be wiped again was very real, and Jazz genuinely did not want to be in Soundwave's possession if that happened.

So back to what to call his bonded.

He'd given his love so many nicknames over the vorns, but most were entirely too obvious. Prowler, Prowlie and the like.

Sparkles? Indagator ... it wasn't one he used, but it was ever so appropriate on many levels. Old Praxian for hunter, it suited his late bonded well. Now he just had to convert that into a believable designation glyph for a Praxian Enforcer and insert it into about a billion places.

Once that was finished, he reread the entire thing, hoped desperately that Prowl wouldn't stop wondering about the Praxian with no Autobot records despite an apparent lifetime with Jazz, and switched the datapad off. 

He bowed his helm and x-vented. This was a dangerous game. Keeping his spark separate from his mission was getting harder. He'd really hoped that Prowl would be too different now, not shaped by the life, love, and loss of Praxus, maybe even uploaded with a few new personality components. 

But everything was all too similar. Prowl had been as horrified by the idea of hurting a mech getting off on it as his bonded had been. _That_ , at least, he would have thought would be shaped by the 'Con existence. Or, he'd hoped for it. 

He lifted his helm and kicked at the outside wall, signifying that he was finished.

It was Ravage that came after several kliks and she took the datapad in her jaws, disappeared, then promptly came back to jump on top of Jazz. Unlike her normal state when she visited him, her field wasn't aroused. It was tired. So Jazz took the insistent thump of her paws as an order to lay flat and let her recharge on his back. He chuckled to himself as she cuddled up near his helm. Of all the things he'd expected to come with an Autobot defeat, this had never even crossed his mind. He reached around to rub Ravage's head before relaxing and trying to get some recharge himself. His processor was overclocked and still running too fast, and he needed to process. 

When he booted eight joors later, it was to the feeling of needle-sharp claws pricking the back of his neck as Ravage purred and kneaded at him, and her field was no longer tired. When she was sure she had his attention she jumped down and lifted her haunches, her tail curved to the side, and stared right at him.

Jazz smirked. "Ya woke up in a good mood," he said, and shifted up to his knees. "How's th' boss doin' with this?" he asked conversationally as he slipped a hand onto his spike cover, playing at the seams. 

Her armor rippled with a grumbling growl and snap of her tail.

"That good, huh?" Jazz said with a laugh as the cover slid away. "If y' not careful he'll just reformat me and then where will ya be?" He held his hand out for her, with a _c'mere_ gesture. 

It was responded to easily and eagerly even as she made a disgusted face and rather impressive mimic of coughing up a hairball by a domestic cat.

"Yeah ah know," Jazz snickered. "Ol' Megsy wants me ta live with myself too badly. Never underestimate y' boss's capacity for creativity, though." 

She snickered in response, rubbing against his hand, and then purred when he moved down her neck and over her back, settling right above her tail. Her haunches went back up and he slipped his fingers behind, pressing a little when he found her cover already pulled away. With his other hand, he slowly stroked his spike, teasing it out. It didn't take much with the desire in her field and the slick tightness around his finger as he pressed it in and out. She'd long been an enjoyable frag, and when he was on top, he didn't even get claw marks out of it. Luckily for him, the claw marks she left when she was enjoying herself were similar enough to the ones she left when she was pissed at him or trying to stop him from getting away with some stolen data, so they'd always been easy enough to explain, but they _stung_. 

He worked a second finger in alongside the first, getting an encouraging trill as the symbiot pushed back against him, tail lashing. A few kliks later, he carefully pressed the third, and scissored lightly. Good preparation never hurt. 

Except for when one's partner was impatient and armed with claws. He knew that look. "Whenever y' ready," he drawled, smirking. 

A growling bark answered him as she squeezed her valve around his fingers as she pressed her hips up further.

"All righ', all righ', ah getcha," Jazz said and swung himself around, pulling his fingers out as he crouched over her. He tipped his helm down to look at her as he lined his spike up and pushed in. He always liked the way she shuddered. In a crazy world where a war that had taken their species almost to extinction had started to feel more like a family feud, running into Ravage halfway between their bases and mutually deciding 'frag it, let's face,' had been a good development. She'd quickly become a fun and relaxing partner. "How's'it?" he asked with a soft groan.

Her engine purred and she pressed back, her tight valve rubbing and squeezing him in encouragement while pleasure washed from her field over him.

"Good," Jazz breathed as he relaxed and slipped his hand down to wrap around under her belly, helping support her as he began to rock. She arched back with a delighted yowl and Jazz started to finger at her spike cover. It opened smoothly, the simple but sensitive length the size of his finger sliding out with little encouragement. She might only be demanding he fill her valve, but he'd learned long ago that giving her a spike overload while he was at it often resulted in fewer scratches since she didn't try to mount him afterwards.

She wasn't nearly as complicated as he was in design or construction, but the sheer _tightness_ of her valve more than made up for it. He stroked with his fingers in time with his thrusts, and his fans were flushing out hot air before long. His helm pressed to the berth, he curled around her and lost himself in being with someone who knew who he was, knew what they'd always been, and didn't need any lies. "Nn, Ravage," he groaned. " _Ha_ , frag." 

Her growling groans were just as quickly rising to yowls of pleasure, her enjoyment of how good this felt with him pulsing into him with every sparkbeat. The crackle of her charge danced against his light armor to build his already near-critical charge.

He never allowed himself to overload with Prowl and Soundwave, never indulged himself unless he was ordered to for the appearance of humiliation, and _frag_ she was tight. 

She was also much smaller than him, and her charge always skyrocketed after just kliks when they fragged. A shift of his hips and a deep thrust, _striking_ , and she stiffened and screeched. Jazz couldn't stop himself from overload, slamming in hard enough that her entire frame jerked forward from the impact. A moment later, he felt liquid heat on his fingertips as she hunched around his hand, shaking and grinding into his fingers and back against his array.

Primus it felt good to be with a lover.

* * *

Prowl sat in the office, Jazz's datapad on the desk in front of him, but no longer reading it. He'd glanced into the slave's closet about ten kliks ago, and had immediately stopped. Jazz was spiking Ravage and jerking her off with his fingers at the same time. It was an act he was well aware she indulged in, but he'd never seen it before.

It was so _different_.

Jazz's features were lax in utter bliss, his pleasure unmarred by pain or performance, and it was _gorgeous_.

It didn't matter that he had none of the features left that made him look like Jazz from the war. It didn't matter ... nothing mattered but how completely the pleasure so clear on Jazz's faceplates enraptured Prowl.

After they overloaded, and it was the first time Prowl could remember that Jazz had overloaded without an explicit order to do so, Ravage helm butted and dragged Jazz off to the secondary washracks that the typically cassettes used.

A klik after that, Prowl realized that he found it as fundamentally arousing as watching Soundwave be pleasured and shivered. He knew that while he enjoyed watching interfacing in general and watching it live rather more than most, he only got _this_ hot when it was someone he was attracted to, like Soundwave.

And Jazz, apparently.

Guilt flickered through his spark. He shouldn't react this way to a criminal of war. He _shouldn't_. 

Shaking his helm, trying not to watch the way Ravage parked herself on Jazz's shoulder and nuzzled against him as he washed her, he turned back to the datapad and did his best to focus on it. He was definitely going to give him the one on Optimus Prime. These files might never make it into the official archives, but knowledge was far too important to waste.

He noted with some confusion that Jazz's mate had no Autobot file at all, and wondered if he had been a deep cover Ops. His deactivation coincided with several altercations between Shockwave and the planet-side Autobot forces. 

It was also curious that the mech had spent so much of his life in Praxus. It _would_ explain the staring, and gave strength to one of Prowl's guesses, that seeing a Decepticon Praxian had been a notable event. 

If Jazz's mate had been Praxian, a reasonable guess, it would explain it even further. 

With a sharp shake of his helm, Prowl tried to put the unpleasant thought of losing a bonded out of his mind, and focused on more important tasks.

* * *

Jazz's vents were panting, and his field said it was in pain. He'd been set upon, hunted around the apartment by all five symbiots. Every one of them left nasty damage behind. Claws marks, bites, laser burns, dented and crushed parts. It wasn't anywhere near the most physical pain he'd been in. He'd continued to fight in worse shape than this more than once, never mind what Vortex and Flatline had done to him at various times. It wasn't even as bad as some of what Prowl had done under Soundwave's instruction for Megatron's viewing pleasure.

But it was still a lot of pain, and now that he'd been suitably 'faced and sullied by the victor -- Ravage, no surprise there -- and the cameras had been turned off, he was willing to indulge in a bit of time of not being stoic.

He hissed as he pushed himself up and glanced sullenly towards Soundwave and Prowl, who were nuzzling each other, barely paying attention to him, and decided frag it, that was as good a dismissal as any. He could really use some of the palmed painkillers he had stashed in his closet, and as much salve as would stick to his frame. 

He was in his closet and sitting on his hard berth, working the salve into the gouges on his side when whisper-quiet pedesteps warned him that Prowl had arrived. He froze. That was a break from pattern. After scenes, and especially after intense scenes, Soundwave devoted a considerable amount of time and attention to putting Prowl's processors and spark at ease. 

Something was wrong. He watched the door warily as it opened and let the Praxian in. Prowl took the few steps to the berth and pulled a medical kit from subspace as he sat down and began to work on the claw marks on Jazz's back. Prowl's field was unsettled but determined, so very similar to what Jazz's deactivated mate teeked like when he was caring for Jazz after a mission went bad, but not bad enough for Ratchet to repair the physical damage.

His armor flicked and resettled quietly as he went through his options of how to respond. "Musta been a good scene," he finally murmured, after almost a klik. 

Tense. Why was he so tense?

"Megatron will be pleased," Prowl responded with a similar tenseness that spoke volumes about how little he'd enjoyed it. "I'd rather a medic see to this than us."

"Nah," Jazz said, and slid into easy relaxation to help counter. One tense mecha plus one tense Prowl _never_ a calm Prowl made, and damnit all, he _wanted_ Prowl calm for more reasons than his own health. "Ah got it. Thanks for the help, though."

"All right," Prowl murmured as he continued working. The touch wasn't experienced, not like Jazz's mate had been, but in it Jazz could feel the base Enforcer files that had developed into his Prowl.

He shifted his attention forward and started working on his hands and the scratches and bite marks that covered his fingers. Ravage, of course. She didn't even feel bad about laying into him. He smiled a bit. They were odd friends, and Jazz knew she would never hesitate to attack and kill if ordered, and also knew that she wouldn't feel bad about it. She'd miss him, but there would be no guilt. The same went for him, of course, and it made their mutual understanding of each other very easy. 

Prowl's fingers slipped under his shoulder plating and Jazz jumped, startled. "Ah, that's--ah, cables're sore there, sorry," he said quickly.

Prowl's field flickered in understanding and the touch was even more gentle, but he didn't back off. Fingers moved, rubbing salve in gently before thankfully moving onto another spot. Having Prowl's fingers all over one of his sweet spots wasn't on his list of things he wanted to do today. 

Well, it was, but it would definitely run counter to the plan. Jazz x-vented. He had to admit to himself that it felt nice to be cared for like this.

 _Careful Jazzmech, careful,_ he told himself. Can't go fallin' for the target, now can we. That would be bad. Head in the game. 

"Why are ya helpin' me?" he asked.

"You can't reach your back," Prowl told him as he continued to work, oblivious to the effects of his touch.

"Ah. How logical," Jazz said, nodding as though it explained everything. After a beat, he mused, "Y' _know_ ... ah couldn' reach my back all those other times, either."

"...I know," Prowl responded without pausing his movements. "You have not been damaged this badly before without a medic either."

"Ahh, more logic," Jazz said with a chuckle. "That'cha _modus operandi_ , is it?"

"It was what I was created for," Prowl dodged a bit, though Jazz was sure Prowl realized it wasn't very effective.

"What was the logic ta shackin' up with Sounders?" Jazz asked with a hum.

Prowl stilled, surprised by the question. He was still and quiet for a long klik before he went back to work. "He makes what is required of me bearable."

"Was it unbearable, during the war?" Jazz asked with a confused frown folded carefully into his voice. 

"What I had to do to fulfill my orders was very difficult," Prowl admitted. "I do not enjoy causing so much damage, especially not to my own forces. The Decepticons on Earth were not easy to forge into a disciplined force."

Jazz x-vented. "We were scrapped soon as they got'cha," he said. "Processors like yours, doin' whatever Megatron wanted? He got lucky."

He teeked Prowl's flush of pride at being complimented and knew that Megatron had listened to Soundwave well. This Prowl was more accustomed to professional compliments after less than a century than the deactivated one had been after his entire career in the Enforcers. Prowl thrived on it, would do anything to be viewed by his commanders as competent and worthy. Given Megatron's usual personnel management style, it had clearly been the result of significant effort.

"What does luck have to do with it? I was brought on line a Decepticon," Prowl said after a moment.

"Where d'ya think he got the frame?" Jazz asked with a shrug. "Don't build 'em like you anymore." 

Prowl stilled completely as his tac-net made a worrying whirl-click as it locked onto that question despite the rumble of coding that warned it didn't matter.

"Woulda brought'cha online long time ago if he'd had ya," Jazz continued like he hadn't noticed. "War woulda been over with an actual semblance'a population. He had ta find ya somewhere. Someone did. Lucky. Where'd they keep units waiting ta be activated, anyway?"

"In the streets and graveyards among the genuinely deactivated and temporarily deactivated," Prowl answered without hesitation even as he mulled over the question and the inconsistencies it presented.

"Lucky slagger," Jazz insisted again as the visit went quiet once more. Prowl needed it to process and Jazz knew the best thing he could do was let him. Prowl was as capable as anyone of willful ignorance, but he was incapable of ignoring facts once presented to him. His tac-net wouldn't let information be ignored no matter what it implied. He smiled to himself and enjoyed the feeling of Prowl's field meshed with his, pleased with his work for the orn. 

* * *

Soundwave had been away for a decaorn and a half along with all the cassettes to curtail and quell unrest in several cities and territories, and Prowl was beginning to find himself desperate for warmth during recharge, knowing that it would be another twenty-two and a half decaorns, the remainder of three metacycles, before Soundwave returned from his tour of Cybertron. He'd used Slats such as he dared, worked as many joors as he could, and was beginning to find himself desperate. It was his first time without Soundwave for any extended period and he knew that part of the problem was just that: it was new and he didn't know how to handle it.

He missed his bonded too much to stand.

A decaorn and a half. Forty-eight orns out of seven hundred and sixty eight had passed and Prowl couldn't recharge anymore. He refused to think of all the variables that could extend the tour. He _needed_ warmth. It led him to the only ready supply he had that would never be on duty when he was ready to recharge.

"Jazz. Come," he ordered the slave when the wall panel slid open. Without waiting for a response he turned and walked to the master berthroom and pointed to the berth. "Hands and knees."

Jazz glanced at him as he complied, moving into the ordered position and settling there. He kept his head bowed, field flat. "Lonely, m'Lord?"

"Yes," Prowl answered honestly as he settled behind Jazz. His field matched his words, but his touch didn't. It was gentle, a light stroke on the valve panel, almost teasing and intending to arouse.

It was ... different, from his normal approach. He thought he sensed Jazz tense for just a moment before the panel clicked open and slid away. Automatic and unresistant. "Take me, m'Lord," the slave said, with perfectly bland seduction.

Just that was enough to rev Prowl's engine with a flare of arousal and as usual he made no effort to hide his state. Yet his fingers indicated something very different as they slid along the sensitive platelets around the valve opening. Then his other hand slid along Jazz's hip and up along his back, teasing and caressing as a new lover would.

Armor shifted and clicked in waves, and Jazz's helm twitched to the side, far enough that Prowl knew he was looking back at him. Prowl traced the side of his back strut, and a visible shiver moved up the intricate interlocking plates before everything clamped down and Jazz lowered his helm, pushing his hips back. 

Prowl could have sworn he teeked ... _something_ , before that vanished, too. It didn't stop him, though, and he continued to caress and seek out hot spots as fingers pressed into Jazz's valve, seeking out sensor nodes and offering pleasure to the mech who didn't want it.

" _What._ Are ya doin'," Jazz finally ground out just before Prowl got to his shoulder plating, and his fists clenched with his valve.

"As was said, I'm lonely," Prowl murmured with continued soft touches. "You'll have to stand in for a lover until Soundwave comes home. I wouldn't expect receiving pleasure to be such a bad thing."

"Is when it's a lie," Jazz said, every joint in his frame locking forcibly.

That was enough to make Prowl pause and regard his slave curiously. "What about this is a lie? That the pleasure is real? That I want to overload with you?"

Jazz cycled his vents through, slow and even. "Treatin' me like a lover. Ah'm _not_. Ah'm a slave. And ah don't have the luxury of forgettin' it like _you_ seem ta."

"As a slave, you are what I say you are," Prowl countered smoothly. "Until Soundwave returns, you are my lover."

The slave's field gave a strange, arrhythmic shiver, and then he lowered his helm down and lifted his aft up. "Prowl," he breathed, and his optics flickered.

Prowl leaned forward, his chest against Jazz's back and his lips next to Jazz's audial. "Relax. I'll make you feel good," he almost cooed.

"Y'always do," Jazz sighed, and turned his helm to capture Prowl's mouth in a kiss while he reached back for his leg. "Want ya inside me."

Prowl shivered and almost moaned into the kiss. It was enough to derail his thoughts and plans into simply complying with the request. He withdrew his finger and shifted to slide into the slick pleasure of Jazz's valve with an easy motion.

"Aah, _lover,_ " Jazz moaned. "Just like-- _yes_ \--" His vents hitched when Prowl pulled almost entirely out and held there for a moment before sinking forward again. "Just like that. _Prowl._ "

A low, rich moan rumbled out from Prowl's frame with intense flares of arousal and Jazz knew he had his mark hooked utterly and completely. There were no barbs on the hook, he had nothing to hold over the mech so he still had to be careful, but Prowl was obedient. It was decades of work to get this far, and he'd done it.

Now to get the other, and work them as a pair. 

Without falling for Prowl. 

How hard could that be? 

Prowl filled him again, one of the hands on his waist wrapped around his frame and the Praxian's weight was against his back. Jazz gripped the padding to keep himself grounded-- _sane_ \--and kept his field tight and blank. Moaning Prowl's designation, appearing to lose himself, he'd done it so many times with the real article that faking it was easy. 

Prowl was soon gasping and trembling against him without tipping over and Jazz realized that the mech had meant what he'd said earlier. He intended them overload together.

He bit back a curse and turned it into a sharp hiss as Prowl struck forward, wondering if it would be possible to fake it. They'd never cared before, and if he timed the right kind of shout for Prowl's overload... 

Maybe. Had to try, anyway. 

If he relaxed enough to overload... 

His frame gave a very real shudder and the padding was taut where he pulled at it. Didn't know if he could hold everything back from his field. 

"Jazz..." Prowl moaned against him, his driving thrusts still steady despite the crackle across his frame. "Relax ... field."

" _Why?_ " Jazz gasped. "Doesn't matter."

Prowl tried to answer but his vocalizer would only spit static until he roared and curled tightly against Jazz as he pumped crackling transfluid deep into the slave's frame. Jazz's engines whined with the force it took to hold everything back, and he cried out, made his valve spasm in an overload current mimic, and hoped it was enough. He held there, braced against the slump of the heavier frame against his back, and waited for Prowl to recover.

A nuzzle to Jazz's shoulder was the first indication that Prowl was regaining coherency again. The next came with words.

"Relax your field."

"Prowl..." Barely a whisper. "Why?"

"A good overload is shared, field and all," Prowl responded, and his tone was mellow, even, unrecriminating, like he wasn't surprised by the question.

"Well it's done now," Jazz said, relaxing forward.

Strong fingers slid back to stroke Jazz's spike cover as he rolled his hips once more. "It's done when I say it's done."

"And if ah don't relax?" Jazz asked, and snapped the cover away as his valve cycled around. He pitched his voice down. "It'll be good, ah _want_ 'cha."

A shiver passed through Prowl's frame at the tone and he circled a finger teasingly around the spike housing while he thrust lazily. There was irritation in his field though, and confusion. A low x-vent escaped him. "Then I won't believe you."

"Ah want ya ta believe me," Jazz whispered, and covered Prowl's hand with his own. His spike extended against his mate's--no, that wasn't right--against Prowl's palm, between their linked fingers. "Ah just--" 

Prowl thrust forward. "I need this, Jazz." 

The voice--that _voice_ \--was a whisper against him, and Jazz whined, and tried to hold back everything he didn't want in the open, but once the first trickles of feeling escaped out, everything else followed. 

_Love-grief-pain-loss-want--_ And then, _**Bliss!**_ as Jazz overloaded with a cry, seizing in Prowl's grasp. Prowl continued to thrust, his pace even as he worked Jazz's spike and rode out the overload under and around him.

"You'll stay with me tonight," Prowl murmured as he continued to thrust and stroke, his field entwined with Jazz's to share his pleasure and read Jazz's. "Every night Soundwave isn't here."

" _Yes,_ " Jazz answered, both to the promise and to Prowl's movement. He rocked with him, syncing their movement and frames together, and let his field loose to do what it would. It couldn't give up any more secrets, and dammit all, it felt _good_ to have someone act like they really cared about his pleasure, even if not him, for a while. He just couldn't fall for it. He had too much work still to do.

* * *

Three and a half metacycles in Prowl's berth, trying very hard to remember he was faking being a lover when every night had brought more tenderness and equality to his treatment, and Jazz was fully aware far too early in the morning. There was still no word as to Soundwave's return, and every orn past the original three metacycle estimate made Prowl all the more unsteady. If it wasn't so important to hook Soundwave as well, Jazz would have made a move. Prowl was more than ready to be manipulated in any way Jazz saw fit.

But the host... 

Jazz's fingers curled up and clenched. Damn him for taking such interest in Prowl. _Damn_ him for bonding to _his mate!_ If he tried anything with Prowl without Soundwave being just as hooked, the host would assign him to the smelting pits, and that would be the end of that. 

_Jealousy_ washed over him and Jazz spent a moment indulging it. Bitterness that Soundwave had killed his mate, then stolen both spark and frame consumed him.

A shadow of movement caught his attention near the ceiling and Jazz felt his vents stall as the liquid shadow that was Ravage leapt to the floor and climbed up on the berth to curl by Prowl's helm without giving him so much as a glance.

_Slagslagslag!_

What had he just been thinking about? 

Oh, right, things that he _shouldn't have fragging been thinking about._

"What kind of a hello is that?" he asked the symbiot with a scowl, pulling everything down and back into the chaos of his processors that was his shield against the host. She just looked at him smugly before settling down for a nap.

"Jazz: is jealous?" Soundwave's voice was its usual flat tone as the door opened. Again Jazz's back Prowl began the slow process of a non-emergency boot. That was three breems before he'd be aware enough to comment on anything, and at least two before he was aware enough to hear what was going on.

"Wouldn't you be?" Jazz asked with a shrug as he relaxed back down, making a point of snuggling back up into Prowl's hold. It hadn't relaxed during recharge. 

"Affirmative," Soundwave responded as he regarded the pair. It wasn't a surprise. Prowl was unfailingly honest with him, even over comms. He'd told Soundwave during one of their evening talks what was happening. "Jazz: wishes to remain in our berth?"

"And live my deluded fantasy that my mate is still alive and with me?" Jazz mused, humming thoughtfully. "Yeah, ah think so. Don't got a whole lot more ta be livin' for."

Soundwave regarded him even as Ravage snickered. "Good," the host decided. "Prowl: is not inclined to have you elsewhere."

Jazz shot Ravage a look before frowning at Soundwave. "That doesn't bother ya? That he's startin' ta care?"

"Negative. Soundwave: knows what Prowl feels for him and Jazz. Jealousy: counter-productive,"the host explained.

Jazz tilted his head at Soundwave, giving a sardonic grin. "Ah can see why he likes ya, Sounders. So logical. How're the revoltin' guttersmecha doin'?"

"Revolutionary advances: proceeding as expected," Soundwave said with an unusual amount of candor. "Jazz: intelligent enough to know this."

From above Jazz, Ravage gave a huffing grunt of displeasure.

Jazz shrugged and rolled over, nuzzling against Prowl. "Jazz is intelligent enough ta know that there shouldn't _be_ revolutionary advances in a civilized society," he said lightly. "Not with the right leadership, anyway. Don'cha agree, Sounders?"

Ravage gave Jazz an unexpectedly hard whack on the helm with a paw, but it still wasn't enough to stop Jazz from hearing the distinctive static buzz of compliance coding forcefully stopping a response.

"Revolution: has many causes," Soundwave said instead.

"Hmm. Hypothetically, in a society identical ta ours, but not ours, what would ya say the cause is, if it happened there?" Jazz asked.

"Ultimate cause: inappropriate distribution of resources. Leadership: failure," Soundwave's frame relaxed a fraction as the coding calmed down at the small but significant shift in subject.

"Gotcha," Jazz said with a deep purr as Prowl's field began to warm under him. "Ah think ah like ya, Sounders." He pressed his mouth against Prowl's for the Praxian to feel upon booting. Prowl's field warmed more and his hands slid along Jazz's frame as he kissed back. "Hey, lover," Jazz murmured into it, and rolled on top of him. 

A moment later, Ravage rumbled a purring greeting, and Prowl's helm tipped to look above him on the pillow. His optics brightened and Jazz was briefly forgotten as he scanned for his bonded with a surge of joy and no hint of shame or distress in his field. "Soundwave!"

"Prowl." Soundwave accepted the hand reached out for him and the joyful warmth that greeted him. "Soundwave: is pleased you are happy."

"I'm always happy to see you," Prowl smiled at him.

Jazz slipped off to the side and stood, moving out of the way as Soundwave knelt down to kiss his mate. 

"Off ta my closet, then?" he asked after about three kliks of non-stop kissing.

"Until tonight," Soundwave responded before his full attention returned to his bonded and the moaning, purring bundle of _desire_ Prowl was at the moment.

Jazz forcefully cut his vocalizer before the keen in his spark could be pulled out into the air. He tore himself away and left quickly. After a moment, Ravage landed on his shoulders and he pet the symbiot gratefully as he tucked into his closet. 

At least Soundwave was good to Prowl. The spark that Jazz loved was deliriously happy with its new mate. Small comfort, but it was an important one. And it mattered. 

He had more important things to worry about than lost love, anyway.


	10. Integrating into a Family

Jazz focused on memories of his music, composing in his head to the beat of the cracks of the whip in Prowl's hand. He had overloaded before being commanded to--not that it had been a pleasant overload, mind--jumper cables hooked right up to one's spike had that effect--and now he was being punished for it. 

His back ached, his plating felt raw and stripped. He wouldn't walk right for a while. 

He hoped Megatron was enjoying the show, and hoped that Megatron would pay dearly for the acting he'd forced Prowl to become so good at. If Jazz hasn't been close enough to teek him, he'd never have known the Praxian was doing a stunning job of faking getting off on the pain of his slave. He'd come a long way from those first hesitant scenes with the wire strippers.

A sharp jolt as the whip electrified brought a startled, painful-sounding gasp from Jazz.

"That's better," Prowl growled at him.

"Please," Jazz begged, and then his helm snapped back as the whip wrapped around his neck and he was yanked back. His vocalizer glitched into a scream when current tightened around it and his optics flickered.

"You do not overload without permission," Prowl growled at him. "Do it again and I'll begin to cut off bits until you stop."

"W-- _chk_ \--t!" Jazz's vocalizer spat static and glyph together as the whip tightened, then released. "I won't, _please!_ "

The whip slid from his neck and allowed Jazz to drop forward again, sinking to his hands and knees rather gratefully as the jumper cables came out again.

"This time you _will_ wait until I've overloaded to have your own," Prowl said firmly as he connected one cable to each hip, then buried himself with a groan just before the current was turned on.

Jazz screamed as his frame seized and bucked out of his control. The sound was muffled by Soundwave's fingers shoving into his mouth before yanking him down by his neck until his chin hit the floor. Prowl continued to pound him from behind and then Ravage's claws sank into his helm and her spike extended into his mouth.

Despite the current surging through his hips and interface array, Jazz felt it when Prowl overloaded with a roar, felt him pull out with a sated sound and Soundwave's thick spike take its place, thrusting into the current-charge valve for a quick overload of his own.

Then Ravage was done, and the charge turned off, leaving Jazz shaking in position.

"Now you may overload," Prowl's purr had a nasty edge to it just before Jazz felt something far too large force its way into him.

Jazz choked as he fell forward, face hitting the ground, and then felt Prowl's other hand wrap around his spike and _squeeze_ far too tight to be comfortable. A few hard jerks, uneven and grating, and the thing in his valve--what _was_ that?--turned and struck. It was uneven in shape and texture, with hard points that dug into the side walls. 

A charge was dialed up and the current became too much, the amount of static on his frame and in his wires tipped over the edge and cracked out into the air with his scream. Knowing this was a scene, a planned event, and he was, despite the appearances, safe, Jazz gratefully allowed himself a genuine blackout to enhance the visual for Megatron.

When he came to, he was on the berth, the very, very soft berth, that the owners of the home shared. He felt two strong fields around him, hands touching him in a non-erotic and non-painful way, and the smaller field that he knew was Ravage near his helm.

"D'ya have--" A cube was held to his mouth and he gratefully stopped speaking in order to drink. "What _was_ that?" he rasped to Prowl once it was empty.

"My forearm," Prowl answered with a hint of apology in his field as he continued to carefully replace burned out components.

Jazz made a sound halfway between a choke and a laugh. "Bet that looked good," he said, then stiffened when he felt Soundwave's fingers on his spike. It was answered with a soothing hum. 

"Jazz: has superficial burn damage," the host murmured as he rubbed a salve into the very sensitive and unhappy metal. "Lord Megatron: very pleased by performance. Prowl: growing skilled at causing pain and acting."

"Not surprised," Jazz said, hissing. Soon he felt the numbness of the salve take effect and let out a grateful sound.

"At least with this damage he won't be expecting a good show for some time again," Prowl murmured, still profoundly unhappy that they happened at all.

"Do not retract," Soundwave ordered sternly as he finished tending to Jazz's spike. "For one joor." 

"Gotcha," Jazz said, and locked the piece where it was, unpressurized. It was an incredibly strange sensation. Then Soundwave's fingers slipped up into his valve with more of the nanite-rich material and Jazz groaned. "Gettin' too good at this, mech," he told Prowl as they continued to work in flawless unison and rhythm.

"Agreed. I would prefer they were skills I never had need of," Prowl replied quietly, his focus on what he was doing. "Was learning your side this unpleasant, originally?"

"Heh." Jazz rolled his helm, trying to get a feel for how stretched out the cables were, and immediately regretted it. "Nn. 'S'isn't a quarter'a what ah learned ta take," he said. 

"Jazz: deflecting," Soundwave chastised. His fingers were working magic on the sore and stretched rim. Jazz could tell it was riddled with small tears that would crack and flake if not treated properly. 

"Yeah, wasn't fun," Jazz admitted. "Ah wasn't inta this kinda play, neither was my mate. Came with the work, then stuck around."

"It is still serving you well. Megatron would not give us so much freedom if he did not believe in your act completely," Prowl sighed as he finally closed up Jazz's left hip and moved to tackle the abdominal and groin damage. "So is the fact that Soundwave is as skilled a medic as he is from building and repairing his symbiots so we can do repairs and make it look like you are suffering more. These scenes exceeded my base repair knowledge very quickly."

Jazz's vents hitched when Soundwave's fingers pulled out of him. "Y'do a good job," he said, and then started when Soundwave was suddenly right in front of him, visor looking right into his optics. 

"Jazz: performed above and beyond all expectations," the host praised. "Performances: are the key to the show." 

Jazz offered a half grin. "Thanks, mech."

"Soundwave: looks forward to the orn when this is no longer necessary," the host said. 

Jazz's grin widened. "Me too. Though if ya ever feel like tyin' me up ... ah won't say no." 

Soundwave's gaze darkened. "Autobot surveillance: would suggest that Jazz enjoyed both roles in such a scenario." 

"Ya spied on me?" Jazz looked around for Ravage, who bared her fangs in a grin at him. "How'd ya like it?"

She purred back at him, lashing her tail. 

Jazz grinned, and then hummed when Prowl wrapped an arm around his chest. "You should try to relax," the Praxian murmured. "That was a stressful scene. Is there anything you need?" 

It was an open offer, and a generous one. Jazz hesitated, and tried to really think about _his_ needs for once. Not that he really _needed_ anything from them, he could have patched up and gotten himself fueled and taken care of on his own, suffered for a metacycle or so as everything worked its way back to normal. So _need_ wasn't quite the right word. He didn't need anything more to function adequately. 

But Prowl wasn't asking about adequate, he was asking about optimal. What did Jazz need for optimal functioning? 

"Can ya stay?" Jazz murmured. "After the repairs, ah mean. Just ... ta not be alone."

"Yes," Prowl agreed.

"Affirmative," Soundwave also agreed after a moment to consider the request.

* * *

Jazz palmed open the door to his closet and ducked out, straightening up and stretching as he looked around for signs of life. They'd given him control over the locks in his closet not long ago, and he was enjoying the freedom of movement. 

It gave him more opportunity to manipulate. 

He poked his head into Soundwave's office and found the host sitting there at his desk, and strolled in, flopping into the rolling chair and pushing it over with his pedes. "What's sparkin', Sounders?"

"Jazz: will at least pretend to respect his superiors. Designation: is Soundwave," the host responded without looking up from the spread of datapads he was working with.

Jazz smirked and propped his pedes up on the desk, tilting his head at the host. "C'mon. Ya like it, ah know ya do. It's part'a my charm."

"Jazz: has strange definition of charm," Soundwave replied in what Jazz now understood was an invitation to talk about whatever he wished. If the host didn't wish to talk, and it happened, he was straightforward in ordering Jazz out.

Much like Prowl, before and after reformatting.

They were too fragging perfect for each other. 

"Prowl liked it," Jazz said with a shrug, looking over the datapads. "What's all this, economic collapse?" 

"Affirmative. Options to avoid: few," Soundwave said with a candor that Jazz was still trying to get used to.

"How's Megatron taking it?" Jazz asked carefully.

There was a pause and Soundwave looked him directly in the optics. "Lord Megatron: does not see."

Jazz looked back and nodded slowly. With mecha like Soundwave and Prowl, what was _unsaid_ was often more important in matters of authority. "What does Megatron want for the planet?" he asked.

"Cybertron, universe: to serve Lord Megatron." Soundwave answered, giving inside support to something Jazz had long known, and no one really questioned, but to hear _Soundwave_ say it made a frightening truth a little too real.

He turned it over in his processors a few times, then set it aside. He could use it to get his pede in the logic door, so to speak, when he was ready. "Whatcha think a leader of the universe would look like?" he asked curiously.

A flicker disrupted Soundwave's visor with a muted static hum from his vocalizer as the question was registered as of the theoretical variety that Jazz often presented. It was the only way Soundwave could speak somewhat freely, and Jazz couldn't help but be privately delighted that he was using it even when not explicitly stated more and more often.

"Extent of leadership: not relevant. Leaders: can be good, bad, indifferent or insane. Define: type of leader."

"How about a _good_ leader," Jazz said, straightening up and taking his pedes off the desk. "Like Optimus, he was a good leader."

"Optimus Prime: had significant faults as a leader," Soundwave countered. "Humans: more valued than mecha. Personal morals: more valued than survival. Optimus Prime: reason for Decepticon victory."

"Truth," Jazz said, lifting a finger. "Ah won't argue that one. Not a good military commander, but as just a straight-up leader for his people? Think he woulda done a good job with peacetime on Cybertron."

Soundwave thought about that for some time. "Agreed. Optimus Prime: had potential for peacetime leadership. Greatest fault: difficulty valuing mecha more than aliens. Good leader: values _his_ people more than others."

"Agreed," Jazz said. "Though it would limit his leadership a bit, makes it harder ta branch out ta be universal. But if we're just talkin' _leader_ ... yeah." He frowned. "Earth wasn't so hot for the Autobots."

"Earth: nearly destroyed the Decepticons. Destruction of Earth: benefited all Cybertronians. Earth: ... was _evil_." Soundwave said it, and even as out of character as the last statement was, Jazz had a hard time not believing the host meant it.

"Humans never did anythin' t' ya," Jazz murmured, then shrugged. "'S over. Ya got y' resources, won y' war." He cocked his head at Soundwave. "Think a leader should be loved or feared?"

Jazz could have sworn Soundwave scowled at him.

"Leader: should be _respected_." Soundwave said firmly, yet the glyph he used was the one Jazz used for Optimus. Respect because of caring, because they did the right thing. Despite answering with a third option, he actually did answer: loved.

Jazz smiled slightly and looked at him. "Y' love Megatron?" 

"Negative. Soundwave: respects Lord Megatron."

And in that same glyph, Jazz could hear it clearly. That was respect of fear, but far more of a lack of choice. It was the same way Prowl had once spoken of his commanders who had not listened to him. He still respected them, he was hard-coded to do so, but he didn't trust them.

Jazz nodded. He understood. "Ya love Prowler, though."

"Affirmative."

"Yeah," Jazz sighed wistfully, and put his pedes back up, linking his fingers behind his helm and staring at the ceiling. "Why? Ah can see he adores ya, but why do ya love 'im?"

"Prowl ... is calm and logical. Rational," Soundwave murmured. "Prowl: understands Soundwave. Prowl: does not hide from Soundwave. Prowl: does not fear Soundwave." There was a lingering pause. "Prowl: is _exceptional_ , worthy of being Soundwave's equal," he admitted his longing for that in the faint harmonics Jazz could still pick up.

"Yeah, he's definitely exceptional," Jazz smiled sadly. "How'd ya court him?"

"Carefully," Soundwave said with a hint of a smile in his voice. "Over games and energon. Soundwave: spent much time talking with Prowl. A contract: was devised and signed by both parties." 

"So he's still inta that," Jazz hummed. "Makes sense, ah guess. It was an Enforcer thing. Have ya bonded for real yet?"

"Negative," Soundwave said, and flicked his fingers across the datapad in front of him, locking down the screen. "Such a step: is many vorns in the future. Soundwave: has symbiots to consider. A bond: would affect them as well." 

"Means they might outlive ya too ... if Prowler's spark could support them," Jazz mused, then sighed heavily. "Ya know ah hate y'all for tak'n my mate from me, but ah'm glad ya make him so happy. Prowler's completely in love with ya." He gave a bitter half smile. "Can see why." 

Soundwave tilted his head curiously, a silent request for further explanation. 

"Heh. Well. Y' fraggin' perfect for each other. 'S ridiculous." Jazz regarded Soundwave. "Y'take care'a him." 

"Jazz: took care of him before I did," Soundwave said. "Soundwave: has never forgotten. Soundwave: understands why Prowl was so in love with you." 

"Yeah?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave murmured. His fingers twitched and he looked at them, and then at Jazz. 

"Guess ah'm just lucky like that," Jazz said, and carefully leaned forward. "Y'ever been curious?" 

Soundwave's visor flickered. "Curious? Explain?" 

"We got Prowler in common," Jazz, and his fingers hovered near Soundwave's arm. "Might be there's more." 

"Jazz: desires me?" Soundwave couldn't completely hide his confusion.

"Jazz has come to a strange place in life where he watches his memory-wiped mate bein' in love with another bot," Jazz said. "He misses his mate. He wonders if this is a way he could feel closer to 'im. And ... ya remind me of 'im, an' ah wouldn't hafta lie."

"Lies: unneeded. Soundwave: understands," Soundwave agreed. "Location: berth or here?"

"Heh. Easy, huh?" Jazz asked, teased, and his fingers came to rest on Soundwave's arm. "Can ah getcha on y' back on the berth?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said as he stood and motioned Jazz to come with him. "Jazz: desires to use his spike?"

"Oh _frag_ yes," Jazz said, and grabbed Soundwave's wrist, pushing him against the wall, tilting his head the way he would for a kiss. He stopped at the mask, but his fingers showed no restraint as they went for Soundwave's valve cover. It slid open agreeably, right along with the mask. Before Jazz could completely grasp that he had lips available to kiss, Soundwave tipped his helm down to claim his mouth. Strong blue hands slid down his back.

Jazz pressed forward, frames coming flush as glossa and fingers both dipped into the offered ports. He heard himself moan as the kiss deepened and he felt a rim tightening around his fingers. "Ah might yell the wrong designation," he breathed against Soundwave's mouth in warning as he pushed and pulled in a slow, gentle circle.

"Soundwave: does not care," the host moaned at the physical stimulation, but far more at the intensity of _need_ in the frame against his. He couldn't read Jazz's processors often, but the physical state of the mech was simple and right now, it was enough to draw a small amount of honest desire from Soundwave as well.

Jazz felt it instantly--he was used to feeling for desire in subtle mecha--and his fingers twisted into the next slow push. His spike extended against Soundwave's hip and then Jazz was grabbing his wrist, pulling him along with to the berth. It'd feel much better than working with an unfamiliar and taller frame against the wall, and the host was agreeable enough to the move. Jazz was still a little surprised at how easily Soundwave laid down for him, legs spread, valve exposed and _mask_ open.

He tried to remember ever getting a good look at Soundwave's lower face and couldn't. Even at home he only exposed himself to be intimate with Prowl.

"Why're y' okay with this?" he asked as he shoved Soundwave's legs back and dipped his head down, pressing his mouth to the host's valve. The frame he had never thought of interfacing with before coming here responded readily to his efforts and Soundwave was surprisingly free with his moans.

"Soundwave: does not need to posture for self-worth," the host attempted to explain.

Jazz stopped, lifted his head to look at the host, then started laughing, resting his helm against the inside of Soundwave's thigh. His fingers continued to tease in little circles, playing over platelets that were just slick enough to avoid discomfort and damage. Purely automatic response, and Jazz was surprised that Soundwave knew it. 

The host stared back at him, bewildered, and Jazz pressed his fingers back in. "Y' sound like Prowler," Jazz said, lowering his helm back down. "'S either laugh or cry, mech, and ah like ta laugh." His glossa worked in time with his fingers, trading on and off with them to tend to the host until Soundwave was genuinely slick and Jazz could head the cycling of calipers and cabling inside. He took his spike in hand and shifted up, stroking a few times before setting the tip against Soundwave's rim and pushing forward. Soundwave was on the relatively short list of mecha he'd never spiked, and old habits died hard. He always watched the expressions changing and shifting, teeked how a mecha responded to being spread.

This one was used to the sensation and enjoyed it, and was unashamed of the fact. Jazz also had no doubt that both frame and field were being told not to hold back. It was so much like the first time he'd been in Prowl's berth it ached, even though the blinding passion was absent from this encounter. The passionate stoic types had never been common.

He settled forward and braced himself on one arm, leaving the other one free to move and entice. He kissed the host again, slower, exploring glossa and mouth as he started to thrust. 

_This_ was the mech his mate had fallen in love with, this time around. The spark was the same, and as far as Jazz had been able to decipher, so was the code. Prowl was essentially the same, just with a different function and memories. 

And his mate had fallen in love with _this_ mech. 

Jazz wasn't jealous. He wasn't an idealist, Primus forbid anyone describe him as a romantic, and he understood that love was more a game of statistics. But he'd always trusted Prowl's judgment, and there _had_ to be something here, some reason that Soundwave was worthy of that devotion.

Primus, it felt good to be inside a mech again. Ravage was amazingly tight, but there was no question that she was dictating the terms. This ... this was so close to being a lover Jazz had to focus on not making that mistake. Soundwave was a target. A mecha he needed to learn about, understand and woo to trust him enough that the subtle manipulations would work on him. 

But what, really, would be the harm in forgetting himself just for a little while...

Jazz shuddered and reached back to wrap his hand around Soundwave's thigh and pulled it up as he pushed forward. It wasn't like his mission had a high chance of a success. It was more of a fantasy, so if he just ... pretended, just for a little while...

" _Frag,_ " he gasped against Soundwave's mouth. It would be so easy just to give in, give up, seduce his way into the berth and their lives and just. _Stop._ Fighting. Just ... _be._ Live the post-war life with Prowl they'd always told each other they'd reach. Lose his mind and tell himself it was all real. Go insane but be deliriously happy in his delusions. This pair would let him. Welcome it even.

But he couldn't. For Bumblebee. For Mirage. For all the other Autobots who were living in the slavery and oppression they'd given their lives to abolish.

Soundwave moaned under him, the larger mech's valve tightening and stroking him in the rhythm he set.

"Let go," Soundwave's voice was thick with charge as he moved with Jazz for both their pleasure, his hands stroking Jazz's frame for hot spots and encouragement.

_Let go._

Stupid thing to do, Jazz mused as he groaned into a messy kiss. Especially with the thoughts in his head right now. Was he even still hiding them effectively? Maybe Soundwave would hear all his plans and just put him out of his misery. 

A 'Bot could hope, anyway. 

Jazz shifted tracks, dumping his entire active 'net and the follow-up queue and going back farther, to the way Prowl's doorwings had trembled when Jazz signed their courting contract. The way his hands had shook while adding his own designation. The way his throat tasted and how he teeked when Jazz tied him down and overloaded him no less than half a dozen times just by touching his doorwings. 

How happy Jazz was that even if it wasn't him, someone still loved and cared for Prowl. 

And he let go.

He overloaded into Soundwave and fell into a kind of blissful daze as the host's legs hooked around his waist and pulled him back in, neither of them ready to stop. The host shared in the memories and images of Prowl and in a strange way, Jazz felt like the telepath was thanking him for taking care of Prowl for the first part of his life. 

Maybe Soundwave wasn't so bad, Jazz thought dimly when movement finally slowed and then stopped.

Then there were hands on his aft and hips that were definitely not Soundwave's, and the hard revving of a seriously turned on mecha.

Jazz's engine stuttered. How long had Prowl been there? 

He rolled to the side and reached out for Prowl, panting, both covers open, hard and slick for whatever his mate wanted. _Something_ kept thrumming into his mind but damned if he could concentrate on it, and he couldn't be bothered to care, not with Prowl's hands on him and that look on his face. Primus, he couldn't make himself care about anything when Prowl looked at him with such desire.

Lust surged into Jazz from Prowl's field, and from Soundwave's. Whatever thoughts the telepath was picking up was turning him on something fierce. Without a word Prowl nudged Jazz to lay on top of Soundwave again and Jazz felt the telepath's spike rubbing against his own, but that hardly mattered when Prowl's fingers pressed into him, stretching him with more care than would ever be needed for Prowl to sink into him alone.

" _Please,_ " he gasped, aft in the air, thighs spread open. He _wanted._ For the first time, it wasn't a scene, they weren't being recorded, he wasn't in the closet that never let him forget what he was, he wasn't being ordered to act as a replacement for Prowl's bonded. 

He was in their berth, and Prowl wanted him. Simple as that.

"I don't want you damaged," Prowl managed to say calmly despite the intensity of his arousal. "Soon," he promised as two more fingers, the mech's entire hand, worked its way into Jazz's valve with the kind of care that Prowl had once always displayed towards him.

Jazz groaned and pressed his helm to Soundwave's chest. Then of all things, he felt the host's hands on his helm and neck, gentle and supportive. Soundwave understood what this moment was to him, and of all things, he was being _supportive._

"Y'ain't that big," Jazz finally gasped, teasing, when Prowl third set of knuckles slipped past his rim.

"But _we_ are," Prowl breathed in anticipation, his movements slow, careful, as Jazz trembled from the stimulation and implication.

" _Oh._ " Jazz heard the host's chuckle in his mind as lubricant soaked his valve. He settled the odd twinge in his spark and cracked a half grin. "Now ah know why y'wanted me, heard'a my reputation."

"Yes, though not that one," Prowl rumbled as he withdrew his hand, satisfied with the state of the valve. "You're a smart, manipulative, high-ranked saboteur who _somehow_ managed to get me to fixate on you before we'd ever met. That is why we claimed you." He guided Jazz over Soundwave's spike and then down onto it. "Since then," he leaned forward and pressed in alongside his mate with a low groan. "Since then, things have changed a bit."

"Changed how?" Jazz asked as he relaxed his frame between them. He shuttered his optics, focusing on _feeling._

Prowl leaned further forward, as close to Jazz's audial as he could. "You won," he whispered.

Jazz stiffened, immediately on edge and alert as defensive protocol flared to life just from the tone and everything it could imply, and then he felt Soundwave's hands on his helm, lifting his head up to look into his visor. 

~ _Calm,_ ~ thrummed from the host. 

Jazz calmed. "Didn' know ah was playin' somethin'," he said, squeezing his valve around them, drawing a shudder fro Prowl and a heady wash of bliss from them both as fields flared and mingled in and around him.

"You're too good not to," Prowl moaned, his attention on the pleasure of his frame dragging much of it from his thoughts. "You're almost a free mecha with us."

"Who doesn't wanna better life?" Jazz groaned, gripping Soundwave's shoulders as they stretched him. "'S what any bot would do." 

_I love you._

The thought slipped out before he could grab it and he shuddered, but Soundwave didn't give any sign that he cared or had even noticed. How could the mech be so tolerant?

~Because I love him.~

The thought wasn't his own, and it took Jazz a long moment to realize that Soundwave was having an easy time reading him right now. It should have terrified him, but the sliding, push-pull of the two frames around him was quickly growing to be too much. At least he was still sane enough to keep his thoughts where they needed to be. 

Prowl slammed forward and that was all it took and he bucked, falling into his overload with a shout. His frame shook between them, and his spark felt like it would burst in the last moments before he blacked out.

When Jazz came to again, he was tucked firmly in between Prowl and Soundwave, still in their berth, both of their arms wrapped around him. He teeked carefully and decided they were both in recharge, and relaxed his thoughts. 

_Strategy_ all came flooding back. This was good. It was a major advancement in getting closer to them, earning their trust enough to move forward. Patience was being rewarded.

He could only hope that Prowl wasn't playing with him when he said what Jazz had won.

He _knew_ his mate. He knew how dangerous playing mind games with him was. He just had to hope that Prowl either hadn't figured him out, or if he had, that he wanted Jazz to succeed. 

He x-vented and offlined his optics, tucking his helm against Prowl's neck and trying not to cling too hard. He wasn't in a good place right now. He didn't have anyone solid to fall back on, no handler, no checkpoints, only himself and the constant dodging of his own thoughts with a telepath in the same home. 

He could just... let go, right now. Fall in love with them and be their secret lover. Life of ease and pleasure. 

He pulled up his last memory of Bumblebee, seeing the minibot being hauled away by a gleeful Vortex as Megatron watched with shining optics. Remembered Mirage and how that beautifully crafted noble frame was strung up in a dank little bar, crusted with transfluid, covered with burns, finish dull with starvation. 

Remembered how happy Bluestreak had been when they'd come to take him away for a reformat. 

The way Ironhide had broken down and sobbed in front of Optimus Prime's deactivated frame, and then fought his guards until they'd killed him. 

How they forced Ratchet to repair the damaged slaves with his reformatted and reprogrammed friends as assistants, his mate held hostage with Shockwave's other experiments. How Red Alert was convinced that the shovels were all symbiots spying on him and was probably insane or dead by now.

He couldn't give up. He was making progress and he had to keep going.

He teeked Soundwave again, carefully, and then slowly teased his hand along Prowl's primary dataport. It was a move he could pass off as absent stroking if Prowl began to boot up from it, but if he was lucky, it would open for him. Prowl didn't rouse, but the port slid open, trusting but far from unguarded. Stilling his processors to focus completely on the delicate and dangerous move he was about to make, Jazz plugged in and began sneaking through firewalls, hacking without leaving a trail. He knew where he was going, exactly what to edit, or he wouldn't have dared to move this fast.

His spark sank a little when he saw that it really was factory new. Centuries of work, all gone. At least he knew some of the shortcuts now. Dampening the control on Prowl's own thoughts was the first step, and one done quickly and carefully. It was all he dared do for now, and he backed out as quickly as he could without leaving a trail for Prowl to follow. If all went well, Prowl wouldn't even notice the shift until it was no longer an issue.

Settled fully back in himself, Jazz teeked both of them again. Prowl hadn't roused, but he rather knew that already. Soundwave seemed just as soundly powered down.

Jazz relaxed again. 

It couldn't be so bad to fall for his target _and_ manipulate it, could it? 

"Saw that." 

Jazz jerked up and saw Frenzy sitting on the base of the berth. He stared at the cassette, vents frozen. 

Frenzy looked back, then shrugged. "I'll delete it from the records. You should know better than to do that where a camera can see it." 

Jazz nodded slowly, trying to wrap his processors around _this_ level of approval for something that was undoubtedly treason to talk about. "I'll be more careful," he promised before the symbiot left.

Could this orn get any stranger?

Light pressure on the berth and then Ravage was curled up on top of his helm, purring, her tail waving in his face. 

Apparently so. 

Jazz sighed and curled back up with his ... his lovers.


	11. The Power of Music

Jazz was sitting in the window seat, helm resting against the glass as he looked out at the landscaping of Kaon. It was one of the few cities doing well, in the middle of a planet that was being strangled by a power-hungry warlord and a high command too focused on their own survival and power grabs to do anything about him. He looked over when there were steps behind him, though he knew just from the sound who it was. "Haya Sounders."

"Jazz: face me."

"Feelin' bossy t'day, huh?" Jazz asked as he stood and stretched his arms up over his head, groaning a bit before he turned around and settled with one hand on his hip, helm cocked, grinning as he took in a rather unusual visual: Soundwave looking less than fully composed. "Ah can be down with that."

 _Ya can't be scared of me._ Jazz put the thought on the top of his mind where Soundwave would catch it.

"Negative," Soundwave responded as he collected himself. It was a subtle change, but Jazz was used to picking up on subtle mecha. "Soundwave: brought Jazz a gift for Prowl."

"For Prowl?" Jazz started to ask, frowning in confusion, but the glyphs died in his mouth as Soundwave pulled an object from subspace. 

Jazz's vents stalled out and he stared for a moment before reaching out automatically. "My harp," he breathed, accepting the instrument. His fingers ran over the spine in a familiar motion, before going across the strings. He looked up at Soundwave. "Why?"

"Prowl: deeply distressed by worsening political situation. Jazz and harp: have long brought him peace from great distress."

Unsaid was just how likely the music was to trigger even greater frame and spark recognition and send Prowl into a reenergized investigation of why.

Jazz nodded slowly. "Thank you," he said, and shifted back onto the window seat, patting the other side in invitation. Soundwave sat down and leaned slightly to rest his shoulder against the frame, his gaze outside but his attention on the mech next to him.

"Y'know this'll make 'im think," Jazz said lightly, plucking out a chord.

"Affirmative," Soundwave managed to say, though it was a near thing from the tension in his frame.

"Great," Jazz said with a grin, and started playing a simple tune. Soundwave sat and listened attentively, and then when it was over, looked at Jazz. 

"Jazz ... had thoughts of loving us," the host said. 

Jazz dipped his helm. "Caught up in the moment," he said. "Easy ta forget everything."

" _Us_ ," Soundwave repeated. "Jazz: not thinking of only Prowl. Jazz: applied emotion to Soundwave as well."

Jazz shrugged, looking out the window. "Y' good ta Prowler. Y' good ta me. Ya got me off that construction line. 'Sides, what is love, anyway?"

Soundwave gave a thoughtful hum before responding. "Love: positive emotion capable of overriding even base coding."

"Like with Prowler an' you," Jazz said. "Don' think ah've got base coding ta override, though."

"Affirmative." Soundwave considered Jazz before reaching to tip Jazz's chin up for optics to meet through Soundwave's visor. "And: incorrect. Jazz: has very strong base code. Priority: survival."

"Yeah, ah guess so," Jazz had to agree with the statement. He couldn't conceive of not doing what he had to to survive. "Wish ya coulda known him ... before." He sighed. "Did a lotta work on that mech, he was happier. _Not_ becausa me or you," he hurried to clarify. "'Cause I spent a long time tweakin' at that code."

"Prowl: gave permission?" Soundwave was now curious, and Jazz didn't doubt also very concerned.

"Ya think ah coulda done a damn thing in those processors _without_ permission?" Jazz snorted.

"Jazz: known to be highly skilled and manipulative," Soundwave hedged around it. "Jazz: convinced Prowl, how?"

"Eh..." Jazz waved his hand in a quick _so-so_ motion. "'S a long story, Sounders, an' ah don't really feel like relivin' that time, y'know? Depressin'." 

The host regarded Jazz for a lingering moment. "Prowl: had what edits made?"

Jazz sighed. "Took away the pain when thinkin' about problems with commanders. Freed up his vocalizer a bit. Little stuff."

"Soundwave: did much the same with Rumble and Frenzy. Rumble and Frenzy: may speak freely."

"I've noticed. Crazy glitches," Jazz said with a smirk.

"Agreed," Soundwave almost sounded amused before he became serious again. "Jazz: loved Autobot Prowl?"

"Loved him before he was an Autobot," Jazz sighed heavily. "Loved him more'n anything."

"Jazz: cares for this Prowl?" Soundwave pressed further.

"Hard not ta," Jazz said. "Looks like my mate, sounds like my mate, pit, _frags_ like my mate." He shuttered his optics. "Sometimes ah forget."

"Jazz: desires to love my Prowl," Soundwave said, and ... could he be smug? "Jazz: would free Prowl again?"

"Heh." Jazz huffed a laugh. "Jazz wants his mate back and Jazz knows he's delusional. Jazz thinks he could love this Prowl." He unshuttered his darkened optics and looked right at Soundwave, lowering his voice. "'d free ya both if ah could."

There was that vocalizer squeal again, the one that marked compliance coding clamping down hard.

Jazz knew he had Soundwave the mech right there. Now it was just a matter of time and careful access.

Soundwave went into an almost hard reboot and then they weren't alone. Bluzzaw dove in to land on Soundwave's shoulder and pressed in close, his frame agitated. The twin terrors of the house were there quickly too, but instead of going to Soundwave, Rumble squared off at Jazz.

"What'd you say?" the little mech demanded.

Jazz grinned. "Said ah'd like ta hear all kindsa shocking things comin' outta this mech's mouth," he said in a low seductive voice.

The symbiot was not impressed and glared as Soundwave came back to his senses. Suddenly all three symbiots were very still, looking at their host. It was Frenzy who recovered first and turned on Jazz. "You can _do_ that?"

"Make 'im scream blasphemies after ah get my fingers in 'im?" Jazz asked, then smirked. "Yeah. Not ta brag."

Rumble snorted. "Very funny. You know he meant whether you can really edit slave code."

"Pretty sure that's what ah said," Jazz said, and leaned forward, resting on his elbows as he looked right into the symbiot's visor. "Ah did it before. But shh." He held a finger to his lips. "Ya get too obvious and it all goes..." He mimicked an explosion with his hand.

The pair scowled at him.

"Yeah, we know," Rumble finally muttered.

"Soundwave: is fine," the host said firmly, sending the symbiots away, though Rumble looked at him one last time before going to his room. "Jazz: play for Soundwave. Soundwave: has a processor ache."

"Heh." Jazz settled back and drew his harp into his lap. "Y'ever watch videos of me n' Prowler when ah played?" 

"Affirmative," Soundwave said. "Effect on Prowl: appeared soothing." 

"'Cause ah do more'n just play," Jazz said, pulling his fingers over the strings. "Ah _knew_ that mech, knew the rhythm of his spark and his processors. Played ta that, drew him in, calmed him down." 

Soundwave was quiet for a moment, then said, "Hypnotism." 

"Kinda," Jazz said. "Relax, Sounders, ah'll make it better."

There was visible hesitation, then Soundwave gave a small nod and settled his frame, optics off.

"Good mech," Jazz purred, and started to play. It was a generic soothing tune -- composing a custom song took vorns and a deep familiarity with the other's spark and processors -- but he didn't doubt that it would help settle the host. It was soft and steady, with a rhythm that gradually slowed and shifted into a minor key, designed to settle any mech.

Soundwave's teek settled with the music and Jazz smiled, continuing to play until that field almost flatlined. It wasn't the full effect that he could get with Prowl, but given the generic nature of the tune, it was a very good start.

* * *

Prowl finished with his work for the orn and looked up, gaze going right to Jazz who was lounging on their berth like he owned it, fingers tapping on the padding as he looked at the ceiling. "Jazz." 

The slave glanced over. "Mmm?"

"You were a performer, were you not?" Prowl asked, even though they both knew he knew the answer.

"Hmm, yep," Jazz said, glancing over with a grin. "Of several varieties."

"Good," Prowl stood to walk over to the berth and shooed Jazz from it before lounging on it. "Without touching me, arouse me to the point I can't help myself but to take you."

"Oh is _that_ all," Jazz chuckled as he put his hands on his hips and looked around the space. "Can ah use props?" 

Prowl nodded, his optics locked on every move Jazz made and his doorwings twitching with anticipation.

"Mmh. Ah'll be right back," Jazz said, flicked one optic in a wink and slipped away. Prowl frowned but didn't stop him, and he reappeared in just a few kliks and pulled a thick, decorative ribbon out of his subspace. Next came a length of chain with a manual locking mechanism--it could be tightened by pulling, but not loosened without the use of a key. 

Said key was tossed onto the berth next to Prowl and then Jazz began to wrap the ribbon around himself. Prowl shivered with anticipation and arousal as he picked the key up without ever taking his gaze off Jazz. Already Prowl's ventilations were quickening in response to the way his internal temperature was notching up.

Jazz took his time, binding himself in crisscrossing patterns that covered his entire frame. As he moved and worked the knots, his fingers slipped along seams and dipped into joints, teasing his own wires until he was breathless and gasping from the light touches. 

Knowing that Prowl was enjoying the show, that just made it better. These were dangerous moments, the ones where he genuinely couldn't tell his mark from the mech he loved so dearly, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

Prowl asked this of him with no one but them around. Prowl wanted _Jazz_ to do _this_ , just for Prowl. It was as hot now as it had been before the war, and the way Prowl looked at him, that he was Prowl's complete and utter focus, was erotic in its own right.

He smiled to himself as he finished the knotting, leaving two long, loose strands that rested over either shoulder, and then reached into his subspace and pulled out a false spike, setting it on the ground. 

Then he threw the chain up and through the support beams that ran across the ceiling, and fixed it into a loose loop, with the tightening side hanging down near his waist. The last two strands of ribbon were tied into a decorative bow around his wrists, and Jazz reached up and took hold of the chain in both hands. He wrapped it into tight circles around his wrist, and then experimentally lowered his weight down. It held and Jazz smirked, then looked right at Prowl as he knelt and sank down onto the spike, taking the full length into his frame. 

"This could be you, you know," he purred as he rocked, giving a show more than to get himself off, though he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good.

"Will be, eventually," Prowl's optics darkened as he focused. His vents were whirring loudly for him, but he maintained enough discipline not to touch himself yet.

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed, helm tilting back. He let his spike cover unlock and the tip spiraled out, and then he took the hanging end of the chain in his mouth and pulled, notching it up one link. It left slack in the line, but it demonstrated his purpose to Prowl. Slowly, surely, he would be able to remove his access to the spike, and with no way to touch himself, would be left hanging without relief. 

Prowl shivered along his entire frame as doorwings lifted to take in more details. The low rumble of his engine revved up a notch at the presentation and the implication. 

He sat still, hands away from his lap as he watched Jazz slowly work himself to arousal by lifting himself up and down on the toy. His optics flicked offline and his vents grew steadily heavier. His helm fell back, and soon Jazz's spike was standing full, twitching every time he sank down. 

When he felt lubricant start to run down the insides of his thighs, Jazz pulled the chain until his arms were lifted, and then started tightening it one link every klik. 

After twenty kilks, the chain was supporting his weight from the kneel. Jazz could stand and free himself, but he stayed on the toy. Each link lifted him just a little further off it. Each link made his thrusts shallower. His spike quivered for want of _touch_ and a frustrated groan escaped him. 

The answering moan refocused his attention on the one this was for and it sent a thrill through him to see Prowl watching raptly, a hand stroking his spike. The Praxian's armor was fluffing in and out, creating a distortion as the hot air flowed in and around Prowl's frame. Beyond Prowl, both doorwings were quivering with the light static of the charge in their owner's frame.

Jazz almost grinned. Prowl loved watching mecha he cared about in pleasure. Always had and, apparently, always would. Whether or not he'd figured it out again was up for question, but Jazz knew he cared, and he knew that if he brought himself _just_ to the edge of overload before denying himself completely of the toy... 

Prowl would pounce, he would do anything he had to to make Jazz scream. 

Another notch up and Jazz felt his knees leave the floor. He made a short whining sound, bucking against the top quarter of the toy, the only part he could still reach. 

Prowl shuddered and his hand left his spike to grip the berth in a final effort to maintain his distance.

One more notch and only by squirming could Jazz feel the tip of the toy against his rim, and then his vision was full of his mate and his senses full of the bliss of being filled by the spike he loved so much.

" _Prowl!_ " he gasped, and groaned deeply into the kiss that cut anything more off. Prowl's hands went around his frame and he was hefted up off the ground. His hands rested on Prowl's helm and his legs hooked around the Praxian's hips, and he felt strong hands move down to hold his aft as he was lifted up and down at the hard pace Prowl demanded when he was this aroused.

It was raw pleasure, the submission and bondage done for love and his lover was intent on Jazz's pleasure as much as his own as their frames clanged together.

"Jazzzz," Prowl moaned with a long rev of his engine and a hard thrust that pressed every sensor node in Jazz's valve, right up to the tip.

Jazz's vents hitched and his vision swam, memories of his mate mixing into the touch as he rode, Prowl's mouth crushed against his and their glossas tangling. It only took a few kliks for him to overload, and that was with him fighting it the whole way, and then he was shuddering and shaking in Prowl's arms as his valve clenched down and he spilled transfluid onto his lover's frame. As incredible as it felt, it was nothing compared to what Prowl's roar and the rush of his transfluid against the deepest nodes of his valve caused. His spark was screaming to be let out, to join with its other half.

Instead, Prowl sank to his haunches and Jazz came most of the way down with him, only sliding off the spike when the chains held him up. Prowl looked up at him with bleary contentment. "You made something of a mess, didn't you?"

"'S your fault," Jazz told him with a grin. 

"Perhaps," Prowl said as he stood, a bit wobbly, and unlocked the chain so Jazz could lower the rest of the way down. "But you'll clean it up, beginning with my frame."

"C'n do that," Jazz purred as he slipped his hands free from the lax chain. Still bound by the decorative ribbon, he moved forward until he was kneeling in front of Prowl, and didn't hesitate to press his glossa to the Praxian's middle. He pulled up through his own splattered transfluid. He felt more than heard Prowl's low purr, and the teek of the mech, the pleasure-enjoyment of the visual, washed over Jazz with thick approval. There was little doubt in Jazz's processors that Prowl would be ready for a second round by the time he was clean.

He was completely okay with that. Right now, he needed to be a foolish slave falling for his generous masters, and since the reality was a foolish saboteur falling for his unwitting target... 

Jazz licked up again, purposefully bringing his frame against Prowl's spike as he worked, rubbing lightly. His hand made its way up Prowl's inner thigh, teasing at the valve cover. It snapped open with a shuddering groan and Prowl shifted his stance to give better access. The array the move exposed was burning hot and incredibly slick.

Jazz smirked to himself. Prowl had always been a switch in every way. And Jazz was just a hedonist. They'd worked well together. 

He circled with his fingers as he finished cleaning the last of his transfluid off Prowl's frame and then dipped his head down, crouching so he could press between Prowl's thighs and found a welcome there with gentle hands on his helm, further spread legs and a moan of encouragement.

It was going to be a fun evening.

* * *

Jazz pretended not to notice when he teeked Prowl coming out of recharge, a change so faint that the Praxian really had no reason to suspect that anyone could tell. 

Jazz could tell. He'd been teeking that field for most of his life. He always pretended not to notice until Prowl actually stirred, and this would be no different. 

They were snuggled up together on Prowl and Soundwave's berth, after Jazz had drawn him there with teasing kisses and purrs, and now they were cooling down. Prowl had fallen immediately offline after his overload, something Jazz was more than a little smug about accomplishing. 

Quietly, quickly, he pulled out his harp and shifted into a half-sitting position to play. It was a melody dear to Jazz's spark, and he knew the spark next to him would recognize it, even if the mech didn't. Soft, light fingers played along the strings, gently enveloping them in a song that Jazz had spent decades developing and perfecting.

Now he teeked with great pleasure the effect on the rousing mech as notes tuned to a singular spark frequency wound their way through the frame. This had started by accident, almost, the playing, just something he'd thought of on a whim in the initial stages of their romance and after their first merges. He'd always been drawn to music and its rendition and creation, and he _heard_ music in Prowl's spark. The song he'd painstakingly composed had prompted Prowl to claim him right there in the middle of the Helix Gardens when he'd heard it for the first time. 

After that ... Jazz had set about exploring this style, and it had been nothing more than a casual hobby. 

Until Praxus fell. 

After that, it had become a therapy, and consumed Jazz as he sought to find the perfect notes to help Prowl recover from the nightmares and recharge well for the few joors that the tactician actually tried to recharge. He still occasionally regretted not being able to help Bluestreak, Sunstreaker and some others more, but the intimacy required for an effective song was too much.

Prowl's field quivered at the notes, arousal cascading through it despite the frame not being online enough to actually experience it yet. This was spark arousal, the pleasure of comfort and soft charge than came with matching harmonics plucking at the spark's frequency.

He wondered briefly if this would be too much, too fast, and throw off the entire balance he'd been working to perfect, but waved the worry aside. It _was_ the right time. Prowl had long ago accepted that there was something about Jazz, and now he was familiar and settled enough with him that if he learned the truth, it wouldn't cause any damage in the finely-tuned processors. 

Hopefully.

Jazz kept careful watch on the field mingling with his own as the emotional content deepened to a point he was sure this Prowl had yet to experience. Prowl's vents opened up and his respiration quickened despite the lack of heat demanding it. Jazz was sure his lover was fully conscious now, but caught up in the music that went right to his spark.

He continued for another few kliks, stringing Prowl along note by note, wrapping him up _tight_ in the web of chords and harmonies, until the Praxian's doorwings were trembling. Then he eased up, softened the song, and shifted away from Prowl's spark frequencies. 

Prowl's gasping ventilations smoothed out, his trembling lessened, but the emotional impact was still there when ice blue optics powered on to look at Jazz in disturbed shock mixed with longing for more.

Jazz looked back calmly, and then murmured in High Praxian, "Were you listening to my song?" As he spoke, he lifted one hand to Prowl's chevron, stroking. 

"Yes," Prowl's voice sounded terribly young and vulnerable in that whisper. "What song is it?"

"Something I wrote, a lot time ago," Jazz said, staring past the wall and remembering. 

"It is ... powerful," Prowl said, his voice still very quiet, his field rich with difficult-to-identify emotions.

"It's meant to be," Jazz said, then curled over to press his mouth to Prowl's forehelm. "Made it just for this." 

"Spark responded more than processors," Prowl shivered at the touch and tipped his helm back to claim a kiss as he reached out to draw Jazz against him.

"Did it now," Jazz murmured, and set his harp aside. Both hands free, he carefully unspooled a hardline from his chest and held it as they continued to kiss. He felt Prowl respond to the intimate offer with an eager moan and unspool his own cord with one hand while the other stroked Jazz's panel eagerly. It opened after a few moments and Jazz felt the cord press right to the jack with no searching or fumbling. Prowl remembered, somewhere, likely his frame. It connected with a soft _click_ as Jazz plugged into Prowl. 

~I'd like to play more songs for you,~ he whispered as the connection stabilized. 

~I would ... like that,~ Prowl struggled with the wording. The experience had been intense, disturbing on a level, but also very pleasurable. Deeper down he labeled it addicting, but it wasn't. Not yet anyway.

~Believe me, I know,~ Jazz purred as he started pulsing energy over in time with the frequency of Prowl's field. Prowl cried out and his frame arched up under Jazz's before he retaliated with the greater power in his spark and frame. Yet for all the advantages in power that Prowl had, Jazz had _skill_. 

Prowl had hardly ever hardlined, and never before with Jazz. That made controlling the pace and rhythm easy. Jazz never could have gotten away with this with his mate, Prowl would have schooled him if he'd tried, but with _this_ mech, the story would play out very differently. Jazz knew him, frame, processors and spark. Knew how to play him and knew how to drive an overload so intense it would knock him out for a significant chunk of time.

But oh _Primus_ did it feel good to have that power directed into him, to feel the unique energy signature that was Prowl ebb and surge as they exchanged pulses. It was strange to have Prowl no more experienced than a new mechling, but Jazz was grateful as energy began to crackle under Prowl's armor.

He pushed and ebbed with his charge to draw the overload out just a little longer, enjoying the intimacy of an act that Prowl had always loved. Feeling him _learning_ it was amazing. That processor was as incredible as ever, and Jazz knew he wouldn't have many more opportunities to pull off knocking him out like this. It was a thrill like none other to be Prowl's first in anything, and a joy to feel him lose himself to the intimate pleasure for the first time.

When he finally synced the rhythm up in order to make Prowl overload, he let himself fall into the rush of ecstasy. They shook together through the crackling surges, with Jazz controlling the rush in order to press a wave right into Prowl's frame at the very end to push him offline. It was an incredible sensation, watching and feeling Prowl black out and power down because of him and the pleasure he'd given.

Jazz didn't dare bask in the glory for long, though. His time was limited and he had work to do. He set his frame to look like he was relaxing, half offline as he should be, and went to work freeing up a bit more of Prowl from the grip of the compliance coding. He was still focused inside, on allowing the mech to think freely, to _plan_ freely. Speech and action were much more difficult to bring about and would come last, after he was sure that Prowl had a plan to be rid of Megatron.

If he even managed to make it that far. Jazz had never tried anything like _this_ before. 

But he knew that Prowl didn't respect the warlord, and knew that once freed, would find the condition he kept the planet in appalling. Just because he was forced to uphold the inequality didn't mean it was something he agreed with. 

In fact, it ran directly contrary to the Enforcer dogma that Prowl had been built to live by. Just because Prowl didn't remember being raised in that culture anymore, or the fixation of Optimus Prime on individual rights, didn't mean the core cultural coding wasn't every bit as solid as it had ever been.

Prowl would not take such a bad commander lying down. It might take him too long, but he'd work his way into getting a better commander in place.

As he finished his work, Jazz gently pulled back to hover above the highest firewalls. He was reluctant to unplug, and knew the dangers of staying here, but hopefully this would be far enough to avoid being attacked as soon as Prowl started to boot. 

He let himself drift off like that, willingly submitting to the fantasy. It was sloppy, but he didn't have a handler or support, and it was helping him stay sane. 

The sensation of a hunter program near the other end of the hardline roused him, and a look told Jazz that it was only guarding for now. It would attack if he got any closer, but not yet. He was far enough that he wasn't deemed a threat.

He brushed his fingers up and down Prowl's arm, bringing his optics online, half lit as he gazed at his target in silence.

~That was amazing,~ Prowl murmured, still a bit stunned by the intensity.

~Figured you an' Sounders woulda done tons'a this,~ Jazz said, no longer in proper Praxian, slipping back into his normal dialect.

~He never suggested it,~ Prowl admitted. ~His telepathy may make it redundant for him.~

~Makes sense,~ Jazz said, then propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Prow. ~Had a feeling ya'd like it,~ he purred. ~Intuition.~

~I doubt there are many mecha who do not,~ Prowl chuckled quietly. ~What interfacing do you enjoy most?~

~Ah, mech,~ Jazz chuckled. ~Take whatever ah can get an' ah'm happy with it.~

Prowl tipped Jazz's face up for a kiss. ~Not entirely true, but all right.~ Image-thoughts of interfacing that Jazz definitely did not enjoy flickered up, contrasted to those that Jazz did enjoy.

~'S true when it's you,~ Jazz said, meeting Prowl's optics. He felt the flicker of confusion, even unease, and allowed Prowl the time to form it into glyphs. He knew what was coming.

~Even the pain and humiliation?~ Prowl finally asked, unsettled by it.

Jazz sighed. ~Ya remind me'a someone,~ he said.

~Your deactivated mate,~ Prowl was sure. ~He was a Praxian Enforcer, like I was built to be.~

~Yeah,~ Jazz said. ~Sorry, didn't mean ta make ya a substitute, y' more than that, promise.~

Prowl hummed, but the emotion was acceptance. ~Why did you love him? You seemed to be an unlikely pair when you hooked up.~

~'S a story for another time,~ Jazz said with a smile, tucking his helm against Prowl. He was half surprised when Prowl allowed that to stand, and took it as further evidence that he'd caught his mark rather solidly. He still needed to be careful, but it was a very good place to be.


	12. On The Edge

Jazz stilled as an alert pinged in his processor, earning him a quizzical look from Buzzsaw as his hand stopped before he'd finished his move in their board game. The alert was from the planetary surveillance systems, and one he wasn't supposed to receive. Soundwave had proximity tracking for Megatron that alerted the host when his Lord was approaching either him or his home, and Jazz was patched into the same system. 

Megatron seemed to be heading right towards their home. 

"Frag," Jazz groaned. Though the alerts were uncommon, and not all alerts resulted in a visit, the times the warlord did visit were among the more unpleasant orns Jazz had. "Come on, time to get in my box," he told the symbiot. "Might want to warn Prowl."

Buzzsaw tapped one of his claws on the table, cocking his head at Jazz. 

Jazz scowled back. "No, y' do _not_ automatically win." 

_Tap-taptap-taptap-tap-TAP._

"It doesn't count as a forfeit if--" Megatron was definitely headed towards them, he'd just turned onto their street. "Fine, all right, ya win, ah forfeit." 

Buzzsaw gave a pleased squawk and lifted off to go find Prowl.

"Glitch," Jazz muttered as he went to lay down on the support and let it do its automatic work of securing him as he was pulled into the tight darkness. He slid his valve cover open, ordered the minimum lube to coat it, and focused on getting himself in the right processor set for the story being told. He'd been locked in here for decades, never to see light except to be fucked, repaired or fed.

Given some of the things Jazz had survived before he had serious rank in Ops, it wasn't as hard as it should have been. He knew exactly what being locked in a small, dark space and abused for decades did to him.

He x-vented, settled, and offlined his optics.

* * *

Prowl looked up as Buzzsaw flew in and landed on his desk and looked up at him, squawking and pinging him with an uplink to the camera feeds. The Praxian obediently looked, and shuddered before clamping down on his emotions, his thoughts, and locking himself into the entity that his Lord believed him to be.

"Thank you, Buzzsaw," he told the symbiot before focusing on his work. It wouldn't due to give an indication that Megatron was tracked everywhere he went.

It took another ten kliks or so for Megatron to reach them and the warlord chose to ping at the door instead of just walking right in. 

Prowl went to answer personally, and felt warmth course through him when his Lord smiled in greeting. 

"My Lord Megatron," he said, bowing deeply. 

"Prowl," Megatron rumbled, and followed the Praxian inside. "I found myself in the area and wanted to see how things were going." His gaze very obviously strayed in Jazz's direction.

"It still sometimes babbles nonsense when it sees light, but for the most part there is little reaction to anything, my Lord," Prowl flicked his doorwings in a light shrug. "It's been broken in quite nicely."

"Excellent," Megatron purred. "The last time I was here it still had some spirit left in it. A suitable fate for the Autobot that used shadows to hinder our great cause." He made his way towards the room where he believed Jazz to be stored, taking in the small confinement he knew held the former saboteur. 

"Punishment to suit the crime, my Lord," Prowl suggested as Jazz's frame and its small support slid out, revealing a slightly quivering slave with his mouth held pried open on one end, his aft and valve pressed against the other.

"I enjoy watching your games with it," Megatron said as he took in the sight.

"I am pleased, my Lord," Prowl didn't try to stop the soft purr and warmth that spread through him at the praise. "Do you wish to watch or use it?"

"I think I'd like to use it," Megatron said as he bent forward to place a heavy hand on Jazz's back. The slave flinched at the touch, optics wide and wild as they looked at Megatron.

"Does my Lord object if I watch?" Prowl asked, giving every impression that he wanted to quite badly.

"Not at all," Megatron said as he started to undo some of the restraints that would allow him to lift Jazz free. "I hope you don't mind if it lands in medbay." His voice darkened and a growl rumbled from his engines. "I feel like hurting some Autobots today."

"Of course not, my Lord," Prowl got his engine to rumble eagerly despite how sick he was at the thought. "It exists to be used."

"Yes, it does," Megatron said with a pleased purr as he grabbed the back of Jazz's neck and hauled him off his stand and dropped him to the floor. Jazz dropped limply and Megatron growled as he knelt. "The slaves are destroying my empire. Lazy, worthless piles of scrap." He knelt and grabbed Jazz's face, turning it upwards. "We let them live, they ought to be _grateful_."

"Can't take that y' incompetent, aye?" Jazz managed to get out around the static and skipping of a rarely-used vocalizer. He heard Prowl's engine growl and privately praised him for his acting skill.

"Can't take that you _lost?_ " Megatron snarled and swung his fist, striking Jazz across the face. " _I_ was superior! _I_ rule!" He grabbed Jazz's shoulder and forcefully turned him over, pressing him onto his front. His oversized hands raked down the slave's back, tearing at the metal and ending at his aft. He dug into Jazz's hip and lifted him up, spike pressurizing as soon as it was released. He didn't hesitate to sink in and thrilled at the scream of pain far more than the tightness enveloping him.

A few paces away Prowl was lounging on the couch, his spike in hand and his optics riveted on the scene. He was sure Soundwave was watching, and grateful for the fact that there would be few explanations needed for anything.

"I--should have--just done this with all of them," Megatron groaned. "Right from the start. Woulda been better."

Prowl wanted to say something, to point out that hard labor was far more useful to the empire than energon-consuming interface toys. Yet it wasn't his compliance coding that stopped him. The moan that covered up his desire to speak was from survival coding, something he honestly hadn't thought he possessed. .

"Trouble ... in paradise?" Jazz rasped, amusement in his field.

Megatron raised one hand and punched Jazz's on the back of the helm hard enough to shatter both optics and knock his processors fully offline. Prowl gave a low whine, a muted complaint when Jazz's frame went lax, but he didn't do much else.

"Worthless Autobot," Megatron growled, frustrated by the limp frame in his grip. He turned his glare on Prowl. "You object?"

"No my Lord," Prowl didn't have to fake being startled. "It is not as enjoyable when it's limp like that."

Megatron huffed in agreement, not at all inclined to counter that truth. Instead he put both hands on Jazz's hips and slammed into him, cracking plating and denting the valve entrance until he came with a low, rumbling groan. 

He sank back on his haunches when he was finished and released a long, satisfied x-vent. "There was sabotage discovered in some of the housing units constructed by Autobot slaves," he said. 

Prowl let go of his spike and allowed it to begin depressurizing with an angry growl. "We will find out who, my Lord," Prowl promised and stood, intent to begin working on it immediately.

"No need," Megatron said. "We know which crew worked on it, they're all being recalled for punishment." He shook Jazz a little before looking up at Prowl. "Would you like a turn?"

"It's not worth it unconscious, my Lord." He shrugged his doorwings and walked over to give a quick inspection. "I'll use it when it's aware enough to respond, my Lord. I do not believe it requires a medic," he added.

Megatron chuckled. "Then I must be losing my touch," he said as he pulled out and shoved Jazz away.

"It is weak, that is all, my Lord," Prowl assured him as he put Jazz back in the small box, checked that he was secured correctly and closed it. "Is there anything else, my Lord?"

"No, I just needed to work out some frustration on a sabotage artist," Megatron rumbled as he stood. He peered at Jazz's face. "I suppose it doesn't need its optics anyway," he chuckled.

"They'll be replaced eventually. It has to go in for repairs periodically. I'm sure Soundwave will have it done then," Prowl shrugged and waited for Megatron to straighten and turn away before closing the slide and locking Jazz away in the cramped darkness. 

Megatron chuckled and showed himself out. He'd likely be in for a good show soon, so he kept enough attention on the feed from Jazz's cell to know when he was used next. He barely had to wait a breem before the cell was opened again to display the brutalized frame. He watched Prowl snap his fingers a couple times to check and see if the slave was aware, and when Jazz reacted, he shoved his spike into the slave's mouth and down his intake.

He gave a pleased rumble. Of all the victories from the war, watching Jazz being raped and tortured by his mate was among his favorites.

* * *

Jazz was still gasping from Prowl's overload when he was pushed back into the dark space, but the frustration, disgust and anger from Prowl's field was what lingered with him. He managed not to grin or chuckle. Really, if one had the patience to take advantage of it, Megatron was his own worst enemy. Jazz had the patience, and now he knew without a doubt that Prowl was free enough from the mech to plot against him. Prowl likely couldn't act yet, but he was definitely free enough to be angry with Megatron.

That was a nice thought. Like something was right with the world again. 

Jazz tried onlining his optics and managed to get a single glitching feed from the left side. He gave a frustrated sigh. He _did_ need a medic. He guessed Prowl was trying to show Megatron he didn't care about the slave, but the potential processor damage was more than some superficial injury. 

The cabinet opened again and Prowl's worry-filled field was there before his careful touch. "I'm sorry. I had to give him a good show. You probably should go to a medic."

That was better, Jazz decided. He felt giddily happy that Prowl was paying attention to him suddenly. 

"Think my wires're fried," he said, voice crackling into a giggle. 

"I'm so sorry," Prowl whispered as he helped Jazz get out of the harness. "Soundwave is settling up the tracers so it looks like he ordered me to take you to be repaired."

"Mmkay," Jazz said, and promptly fell over when he tried to stand up. "Love ya, Prowler," he hummed from the floor. "Ah really hurt." And now he seemed to be saying whatever went through his mind so maybe it would be a good time to lock his vocalizer up.

Prowl kissed a fairly undamaged spot on his forehelm and guided him to the couch. "Lay down, don't move and I'm turning your vocalizer off for you," Prowl said gently as he accepted a comm from a irritated Hook that the medic would be there shortly. "Hook's on his way."

Jazz nodded and sank into the padding gratefully, and actually let himself go offline.

* * *

"Jazz: sit," Soundwave said, pointing at a seat. "We: are going to have a discussion."

"'Kay," Jazz looked at the host with a cheerful, relaxed expression and a wary processor as he complied. "Was'up?"

"Jazz: purposefully leaving clues in such a way where, if the pattern is uninterrupted, Prowl will be able to work out his full history," the host said sternly.

"Ya've been enabling it. Ya know ah can't do much without y' okay," Jazz pointed out. "Thought him learnin' was the point."

Soundwave twitched a bit. That was not a statement he could actively confirm. "Soundwave: wishes to know Jazz's plan if Prowl should learn." 

Jazz stilled a bit, then sighed. "Hope he's got enough freedom of thought not ta do anything stupid that'll get'im hurt. Prowler's got the processor ta put this world ta rights. He just needs the freedom ta do it. Freedom neither commander gave'm."

Soundwave nodded slowly. "Jazz: will not break any of Lord Megatron's laws or commandments," he said, looking right at the saboteur, pleading for him to agree. If he didn't, Soundwave would be forced to take action against him. 

Please, _please_ let him understand. 

"Nothing ah know about," Jazz replied, turning serious. "Ah want the revolution he began ta succeed."

"Agreed," Soundwave said, relaxing. "Equality and freedom: for all Cybertronians."

"Yes. Exactly. Equality for _all_ ," Jazz emphasized the point. "A system where the lowest could rule, the highest take care of the needy and the punishment suits the crime _and_ situation."

" _Yes,_ " Soundwave said, hands clenching. "That: was Lord Megatron's dream."

Jazz nodded, hiding his thrill. "A dream worthy of happenin'. Worthy of fightin' for. A dream worthy of Prowl," he added softly. "A dream worthy of loyalty. Are ya loyal to his dream?"

Soundwave grew very still. Careful, dangerous questions worthy of consideration. 

He wasn't stupid, he knew what Jazz was trying to do. He just didn't think it was possible. If Jazz became a real threat, he'd better do it carefully. 

"Soundwave: has always been loyal to his Lord's dream," Soundwave said slowly.

"Seems there's a lot'a work left to make that dream real," Jazz suggested, relaxing and projecting _I am not a threat_ with all his skill. "Ah'm sure you 'n Prowler could do a lot ta make that dream more real. Without breakin' any orders or such."

"Soundwave: is sure of it," the host said. "Soundwave and Prowl: care deeply for Cybertron. Only with a fully realized Cybertron: can justice be achieved."

Jazz nodded. "Ya know ah'm smart. Wanta talk about what ya can do, whatcha wanta do?"

"Soundwave ... believes that rehabilitation for former hostiles would be a wise investment," Soundwave said. "With few exceptions: Soundwave can gauge loyalty to Lord Megatron's dream."

"Ah agree. Doubt many that're really impossible ta socialize survived the last battles," Jazz said, quietly grieving for those lost lives. "Ah know ah'll never be among 'em. Had too much rank, too hard ta read, too much a symbol'a the enemy. This is my fate," he motioned around the home. "Damn sight better than ah ever expected, but ah'll never transform again. Not while Megatron lives. He's gotta hate somebody."

Jazz regarded Soundwave's sudden tension and shook his helm with a laugh. "Ya know ah'm not planning ta assassinate the mech, Sounders. Just statin' the truth. Mecha aren't immortal, Sounders. Ya know some vorn he's gonna gray. Just the way 'a things."

"Indeed," Soundwave said, regarding him. "Jazz: is correct. Jazz: far too dangerous. However: Jazz's presence calms Prowl, and Prowl: has economic skill. This planet: is on the brink of collapse."

"Then what's stoppin' ya from changing what needs ta change ta stop that?" Jazz pressed carefully. "Ya have the skill and know-how. Ya got rank. Ya got his trust. What's stopping it?"

"Soundwave..." The host stopped and his vocalizer skidded for a moment. That was Lord Megatron's dream. Could Soundwave go around Lord Megatron to achieve Lord Megatron's dream--? "Soundwave: will consider that," he said.

Jazz nodded. "Sometimes that's all ya hafta do. Maybe chat with Prowl about it. It's kinda his function ta see ways ta make things work. He just needs pointed in the right direction sometimes."

"Agreed," Soundwave said. "Query: what does Jazz think he will gain by revealing Prowl's past?"

Jazz gave a sad smile. "He deserves ta know what his frame used ta be, what was done ta it, why he reacts the way he does ta me. Maybe hoping he'll kill me, maybe hoping he'll admit his spark still loves me," he shrugged. "Sides, if anything can shake his coding to line up with logic again, this is it."

Soundwave frowned, but nodded. It wouldn't do to think about that too much. "Jazz: should be careful," he said, before standing and leaving Jazz to his thoughts. He didn't see the small smile creep across the saboteur's face before Jazz went back to his music.

* * *

"Can ... ah help ya?" Jazz asked when Rumble climbed into his lap and looked up at him. A moment later, Frenzy dropped onto his shoulder. "Either of ya?" 

"Yeah, ya can," Rumble said, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. "Boss saw what you did to Prowl." 

"He knows you've been hardlining with him," Frenzy continued.

"Prowl likes it," Jazz looked at the pair. "Boss want the same?"

"Yep, order up. And make it piping hot," Frenzy said, snickering. 

"Wants his circuits blown, if you know what I mean," Rumble added.

"Sure do," Jazz grinned conspiratorially at the pair. "Ah'll give'm _exactly_ what I give Prowler. Blow his processors but good. He ready for'me?"

"He's ready," the cassette twins said in unison.

Jazz nodded and they scooted off his frame so he could stand. It wasn't far to the berthroom, it seemed as if space and privacy from housemates wasn't much on Soundwave's agenda no matter what, and Jazz poked his helm in to see the host on the berth, reading something. "Heya, got a cassette-delivered request ta blow y' circuits bigtime."

Soundwave looked up and his visor flashed. "To--" The words cracked into static. 

"Shh, shh," Jazz crooned as he swayed forward and climbed onto the berth. "Ta serve Lord Megatron's dream, ah know," he said, straddling Soundwave's lap. He rested his fingertips on the host's chest, looking into the over-bright visor as his other hand unspooled his hardline. He held it up for Soundwave to see. "Lemme take care'a ya, Jazz'll make it _all_ better."

"Soundwave: requires a hard overload," the host instructed. He was still a bit jacked up by his thoughts from when Jazz walked in, but he was calming quickly as he focused on interfacing pleasure.

He could do this. He wanted this.

He needed to stop thinking about it.

He slid his hands along Jazz's back as he focused on the idea of pleasure in a way he never indulged in. It took nearly a full klik of Jazz's patient, arousing touches to his chest before Soundwave could slide back the panel covering a major hardline port.

"There's a beauty," Jazz purred, and leaned in to press his mouth against the port, swirling his glossa around. "Never really been inta this, Sounders?" he asked, glancing up.

"Negative," the host gasped as he slid his facemask open. "Danger: high. Additional reward: low."

"Mmm, ah'll get'cha a nice reward," Jazz promised, and shifted up to take a kiss. He tapped his cable against Soundwave's jack. "Prowler tell ya how great it feels?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave's engine rumbled at the memories as he took Jazz's hand and guided the cable to connect, then fumbled for his own.

Jazz chuckled. "Impatient," he teased, and his steady hands slipped over Soundwave's own, moving with the host through the unfamiliar motions, and then offering his jack. Soundwave clicked in and Jazz immediately sent a burst of raw data over, scrambled lines of nonsense that hit with a heated crack of static.

A gasp answered it as Soundwave's frame arched under Jazz, and protocols sent a burst of the same in reply. It wasn't organized yet, Soundwave no more skilled at this than Prowl had been.

Well _that_ was fun, Jazz decided. He would have expected more experience from the renown Decepticon interrogator. He set about working against the highest firewall Soundwave still had up, squirming his way into the tiny cracks and crevices between the characters that made up the powerful defense. Each line of code came with its own independent energy signature to tickle and caress at Soundwave's, hazing the telepath's awareness and masking what he was doing.

~Hardline interrogation very different from hardline pleasure,~ Soundwave's comment came through his awareness first, then was pushed over with the next surge of data gibberish and charge to bloom across Jazz's processors.

~Sneaky,~ Jazz purred to him, processors hitching as they absorbed the scrambled code, charge surging through as line after line was processed and absorbed into the growing pool. Soundwave's fingers scraped across Jazz's back randomly, caught by code and random charge as the building energy scrambled much of Soundwave's control.

It was terrifying to the host, a being who existed for control, yet no more terrifying than his first spike overload had been long ago. That moment flared to the forefront of their mingling awareness and Soundwave didn't fight sharing it. He couldn't, not and still maintain any level of coherency.

~That's it, don't fight it. Whatever ya wanna think about. Ah'm gonna hold ya right here until ah'm ready, get as worked up as ya can,~ Jazz coaxed, relishing having such an intimate moment on offer. Soundwave cared about the other host, and while no designation was attached to it, Jazz knew he could find it if he really wanted to. The simple fact that he didn't recognize a host was plenty of proof that Soundwave's first lover hadn't survived to the height of the war.

A shuddering gasp escaped Soundwave at the suggestion/permission, and his helm fell back with a roar of current he pushed into Jazz's frame.

Jazz held steady, dumping his own charge directly into high-energy systems to keep his resting charge steady, siphoning off the extra that crackled off of Soundwave. He held the host below overload for as long as he could, purring at the offered images. Soundwave seemed to find _connection_ erotic more than any physical contact, much like Prowl. 

With a hum and a smirk, timed to Soundwave's remembered overload, he collected as much charge as he could in a massive tangle of code lines and shoved it forward over both hardlines, right into the host's processor. The startled screech that resulted wasn't exactly audial pleasing, but the rush of pleasure through the host's systems was everything Jazz was looking for, including the hard shut-down that resulted in several surges crackling back into Jazz through their plating. He let himself shudder through an overload, needing some of the charge burnt off anyway, and very much enjoying the feeling of their fields tangling together. 

When it was all over, Jazz carefully laid Soundwave's limp form back before he slumped over him, panting, the very image of an exhausted lover. Over the hardline, past the firewalls, he began to work. 

He moved quickly. Soundwave's processors were not a place any sane mecha wanted to be, especially for his purpose. Sabotage against this kind of code could and often did end badly. He'd been bitten more than once by Prowl's, and Prowl was far more willing to have him in there. Soundwave ... the mech practically existed on the foundation of destroying anything that was perceived as a threat.

It would take vorns of small edits, each built on the last, before Soundwave was free enough to be proactive, as free as Prowl already was.

"You really do look good like that," Prowl's deep rumble drew Jazz's helm up to look at him, putting on a far more dazed expression that was true. "You'd look even better in your real colors," Prowl added as he sank onto the berth with a field hot with arousal and hands that left no question that he wanted to sate his spike.

"These _are_ my real colors, now," Jazz mumbled, though he smiled and added in a teasing purr, "m'Lord." He shifted a little, trying to hide the still-connected hardline a bit with his arm. He needed a while more, and hopefully Prowl would be happy to take him without much movement being necessary.

"For now," Prowl rumbled as he settled between Jazz's obligingly spread legs and rubbed along the valve opening to check for slickness. With little more than time for Jazz to moan softly, Prowl pressed forward, sinking into the slick heat with a need-filled groan.

"Wanna paint me-- _nn_ \--up like a pleasurebot?" Jazz asked, aft lifting into the air to meet Prowl's pelvis. "Pink streaks inside my thighs, all around my panels? Could look so good for you." 

Prowl shuddered in a mixture of physical pleasure and the image as he thrust, more than willing to do all the moving involved in getting himself off. "Or black and white, with blue and red lines. A lovely line of chevrons down your panel pointing right to the sweet spot. Yes, it would look so good on you."

Jazz moaned. Prowl wanted him. Prowl wanted _him_ , the way he had been, the way they'd lived together. "Ah'll do it for ya, anything," he gasped. "Want'cha happy." 

Quietly, quickly, he hurried through the lines of Soundwave's slave code, seeking out the base lines and changing the necessary symbols to allow the host to begin to _think_ as he willed about his Lord. By the time Prowl overloaded with a groaning roar Jazz was backing out. When Prowl began to thrust again, he keened with building pleasure at the realization that Prowl intended him to overload as well. He quickly unplugged from Soundwave, tucked his cable away, and moved up onto his knees. He reached back to grab Prowl's frame, twisting so they could kiss. As Prowl's glossa delved into his mouth, he seized in overload, shaking and bucking against his mate.


	13. Learning the Truth

Prowl looked up from his work as Jazz wandered in and flopped on their berth, looking bored. 

"Ah'm bored," he announced a moment later. 

Prowl chuckled lightly. "Then find some way to entertain yourself," he said. "And be glad you're not locked in a closet." 

Jazz huffed, arms and legs splayed out. "How about you come and entertain me." 

"How about you manage to entice me to, without touching me," Prowl grinned as he challenged. "I'm going to continue working until I'm charged enough from listening to watch. When I can't stand not touching, I'll wear you out."

Jazz's engine gave an annoyed grumble. "That's a lotta effort, mech," he said, then rolled over onto his stomach and lifted his aft in the air. He made sure the unlocking click of his valve cover was audible. It was a lot of effort to pull Prowl away from his work, but it was pleasurable effort, and with very, very pleasurable results.

After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder, and saw that Prowl was still focused on his desk. He scowled, then slid first his valve cover, then spike cover away, and settled down to the task of working himself to overload. He wasn't quiet with his moans, and found himself remembering his mate as he worked. 

Prowl's designation slipped out somewhere close to his first overload. The pleasure and the revs of Prowl's engine as the Praxian became more and more worked up from listening, then watching, grew louder. The moment Prowl turned to watch him Jazz knew it wouldn't be long. It was never long when Prowl was this hot when he turned to watch.

" _Prowl,_ " he moaned again, hoping that just one more might draw the Praxian to him. 

It worked, and strong hands were grabbing his hips and shoving him forward into the berth, and Jazz was most suitably entertained for the next joor. 

He ended up on his back somehow, purring beneath his lover as their armor pinged and cooled.

"I miss your real looks," Prowl murmured randomly. "You were such a handsome mecha during the war."

"Ah was, wasn't ah," Jazz said with a grin. He cocked his helm up at Prowl. "Miss my helm the most--my horns were the best."

Prowl gave a hum and reached up to caress the missing horns. "Cruel, vindictive and so very petty to take them," he murmured.

Jazz shrugged. "No one expected different. Plenty got worse."

Prowl's engine grumbled at that, a truth he wasn't old enough to have known. Instead he settled down again, resting his helm over Jazz's spark and sinking into the steady pulse of that life energy.

Jazz's vents hitched a little and he rested his hand on top of Prowl's helm. "Wish we coulda..." he murmured.

"Could of?" Prowl prompted quietly as his fingers made absently erotic patterns across Jazz's chest.

"Done this ... at a different time," Jazz finally decided. He hesitated, then quietly unlocked his chest.

Prowl lifted his helm at the shifting of plating under it and looked down. His optics spiraled open in shock as comprehension hit, but his fingers along that seam were gentle and his field was warming quickly. "You know this is not expected of you."

"Ah know," Jazz whispered, and pulled Prowl into a kiss. "Ah wanna." In his chest, his spark _surged_ forward, pounding against the confines of the crystal, desperately reaching for its other half. 

Prowl gave no more resistance, no hesitation. His spark took over and his armor parted as quickly as it could. His crystal was already opening when the last plates had settled into position for the merge. Ice blue leaders reached out, dancing across Jazz's internals and spark chamber. As soon as Jazz's chamber opened and their energy touched, the merge came smoothly and easily, almost rushed, but the sparks slid together like they'd been made for it. Prowl's extremities jerked inward as he keened at the intensity of it. Processor and spark knew what was coming, but his processors were not ready for the utter perfection of the moment, so much more _right_ than merging with Soundwave.

That realization was nearly enough to break the merge as he tried to pull away, but it wasn't enough. His spark owned him in this moment and as soon as he calmed from the momentary panic Prowl allowed his helm to drop and his frame relax, submitting completely to what was happening. Jazz's spark and frame shuddered against him, and their sparks spun into a tight orbit with each other, pressing until their cores united. There was no resistance. 

~ _Prowl,_ ~ Jazz's spark whispered, love and longing and loss in its being. ~It's you, it's really you.~

~How do you know me?~ Prowl asked, even as his spark reveled in the _belonging_ it felt in this moment.

~ _I love you._ I have loved you, I will always love you.~

Prowl's spark quivered as he moaned, soaking in the truth of it as it shut the processors out a bit more. ~Never want this to end. We are one.~

~You came back to me.~ The _pain_ and loss choked the flow of energy for a moment. ~Please, dear spark, don't leave me again. I'm not strong enough.~

~Never,~ Prowl's spark surged with determination. ~We are _one_. Meant to be one. Remain with me always?~

~Always,~ Jazz sighed blissfully. ~Promised you I would. I love you. _I love you._ ~

With that their already merged cores began to unwind, sharing their energy and unique frequency until they created something completely new that was part of each of them, all of each of them. It only parted when its two frames fell offline, and when it separated it became different again. Each original spark was changed, but not wholly. Each retained only a small trace of the other, but the change was fundamental.

It wasn't new to either spark, and came after a long history of changing each other, one small piece at a time, taking over each other. 

When Jazz came online, he tightened his arms around Prowl, burying his face against his mate. For so long, he'd been forcing himself not to move too fast, not to reveal too much, knowing that Prowl needed to put things together on his own. 

But now... 

Now he was free to let go of the self-control, and let his field unfurl and caress against Prowl's, completely open. Prowl was still out cold, but his spark was warm and welcoming through his field. There were lingering hints of confusion here and there, but it wouldn't take long for Prowl to sort those out. So Jazz relaxed, reveled in what he now had, and hummed and cooed as Prowl gradually began to boot. It would be a slow one this time, Jazz was sure of it. Prowl's processors had a lot of things to process before he became aware again.

He knew exactly where Prowl was in the sequence, long familiar with it. He touched when the external sensors came online, hummed an old Praxian song when the audials followed, and then finally, when the optics flickered to life, smiled. "That was nice," he said. 

"Beyond nice," Prowl murmured, content to remain where he was for the moment. They both knew it wouldn't last, Prowl had data he needed to find, but for now Prowl's spark's desire to remain next to its long lost other half won out over Prowl's gradually building need to know what was going on.

Jazz hugged him tightly, just as reluctant to part from the other. Prowl's spark was the same, he knew that without doubt now. The programming was the same. _Everything_ was the same, except what he remembered. 

It was like meeting his bonded all over again. Jazz still, and always would, grieve for the loss of his mate and the life and memories they had shared, but at least Prowl's spark was still alive and remembered him. 

It was more than most got.

* * *

Prowl roused gradually from recharge, his spark content in the field of his lover. When he onlined his optics, he rebooted them a couple times when the frame with him didn't match what he thought it should. He expected white and blue with a line of red, not flat gray, but it didn't take long to remember that Jazz was a slave and his frame would match.

The expectation was logged as an odd processing blip and set aside as he curled around Jazz. The other was back in recharge again--they'd both roused for a little while and spent the entire time kissing before slipping back offline--and now he was alone with his thoughts. He was finding he didn't like the state, which in and of itself was worthy of attention, except that he knew exactly why.

The irregularities that had always been with him, from his hand to hand combat skills to shooting reflexes to the way he responded to certain mecha like Starscream and Jazz. He'd always pushed them aside as just that: irregularities. Quirks in a reality that he had too little time to adapt to and plan in. He'd put himself towards the bottom of the list of things to sort out, and he could no longer do that.

His tac-net wasn't helping either. Every option that had respectable odds was one that he truly did not want to face. Now though, now he could no longer keep himself ignorant of the truth.

There had to be proof somewhere, and if there was, he was going to find it. 

Prowl sat up, carefully disentangling himself from Jazz, and jotted a note on a datapad for Soundwave not to worry, and that he'd be back when he was ready. He left it where Laserbeak would find it, hesitated, then retrieved Jazz's harp and curled it into the slave's fingers. Somehow, he knew Jazz would understand. He packed a dozen orns' worth of energon and headed for the ancient and abandoned archives in Iacon. The Autobot capitol was the most likely place to find references to ... well, whatever he was going to find.

He wasn't looking forward to trying to out-think his bonded. If what his tac-net suggested was true, then it would have been Soundwave that scrubbed the records. Finding what Soundwave had been ordered to remove would not be easy. 

If it was true at all. If not--and he could think of dozens of scenarios that explained everything--then he would be chasing something that didn't exist. 

He needed _proof_ , one way or the other. 

The ruins in Iacon had been scrubbed by Decepticons, he could tell that as soon as he entered. After two orns, he found listings of other data storage sites, and from there, found himself in old bunkers scouring through abandoned personal effects. If what he was looking for existed, _someone_ had to have records of it somewhere.

Surely some low ranked mecha had written about Jazz's bonded. Taken image captures or even vids. Jazz was simply too important to have his mate be completely absent from the records.

Primus he hated thinking that his first love wasn't really ... was it even possible that Soundwave was only following orders to be with him?

No. No, he couldn't believe that. Soundwave cared for him deeply. Prowl knew that from the host's very spark.

If Megatron had ordered Soundwave to hide the truth, Soundwave would have done so, but their courtship, their life together, that was _real_. Soundwave loved him. 

Nine orns into his obsessive search and he'd torn through most of the significant sites in Iacon's ruins. Soundwave pinged him once every orn, but other than that, was silent. Prowl was grateful. 

When he found it, his spark throbbed strangely in his chest. It was a diary written by Bluestreak, the former Praxian who had come begging him for a reformat.

Prowl sank down onto the dusty berth in the ruined barracks and started to read the long, rambling entries. Part of his therapy, the author mentioned more than once.

_[Today I got to be part of a bonding ceremony! Not a spark bond though just a legal one because with the war and all the danger Jazz and Prowl decided it would be too dangerous especially considering how important both of them are. I don't think I'll ever be that important to the Autobots but I'm glad I could be there for Prowl. Prowl asked me and Smokescreen to come as his guests and I think it made him really happy to have other Praxians there. Mirage, Blaster, Whiplash, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were there too, and Optimus Prime of course. He ran the whole thing. Their vows were so beautiful, it makes me so happy to see them together, like there's hope if two people can really love each other that much. I hope I love someone like that someday, it must be an amazing feeling. They promised to spark bond after the war and I hope they get to. I hope for a lot of things...]_

After that, the entry wound its way into a new topic and Prowl stopped reading.

He quickly downloaded the full contents onto a datapad of his own and continued the search, room by room, for more personal journals and image capture collections. A mech that went by Hound had a bonanza of images, so many that Prowl simply began to subspace the collection cubes for later viewing after the first three.

That night's comm from Soundwave was far more difficult than most, but Prowl made it through and allowed Jazz to play for him over the comm. The harp's harmonics soothed his agitated processors into recharge, and he booted feeling ready to face hunting through more rooms, but he quickly found that most of the rest of the barracks were too unstable or already completely destroyed, and after exploring what little he could and finding nothing, he retreated back to Bluestreak's bunk to go over everything he had collected.

There was a lot to go over, and the next three orns passed in a deep state of organization, only distantly aware of the outside world as he downloaded, searched, sorted and correlated all he had gathered. His primary goal was to discredit it. To find any contradiction that might open the possibility of this being an Autobot plan or mistaken identity. After all, Jazz's mate had been a Praxian Enforcer. It made sense that their looks were similar.

It didn't excuse them being identical to the mircron to facial recognition.

It also didn't excuse the personality similarities. Even Enforces had distinct personalities, and while some were definitely similar and all shared a basic set of traits that made their function work well, everything Jazz's legally bonded mate said and did was what he would do in the same circumstances. 

A picture of Jazz grinning and dipping him back during a dance made his spark throb, and the intensity of their merge was suddenly overwhelming him again.

Prowl's fist clenched hard enough to cause the sensitive metal creek in protest, then shot pain to his processor in a second protest. He really did not want to think about what it all spelled out, but he could no longer deny that the most probable truth was that he was Jazz's legal bonded from long before he booted up as a Decepticon, much less legally bonded to Soundwave. It meant so many things, but the two most critical were a deep fear that Jazz might challenge his bonding to Soundwave -- it didn't matter that a slave couldn't or that, or that to do so meant Prowl himself would be executed for remembering -- and that he was not a very young mech, but quite an old one with a long history as a Praxian Enforcer and an even longer one as an Autobot.

That Prowl had been the Autobot SIC and CTO before becoming the Decepticon CTO.

It also meant that Soundwave was likely the one responsible for wiping his former self and resetting him to factory standards.

It explained nearly everything, every single anomaly he'd noticed since booting up, his reaction to Jazz, the way he sometimes got strange looks, why Bluestreak had latched onto him personally. 

But it didn't explain why Jazz had both worked his way into his life _and_ not told him who he had once been. Why the games?

His tac-net helpfully supplied that if Jazz knew his coding and processors as well as the data indicated, then he would also know that if he wanted to be believed, it was best to allow Prowl to do the bulk of the discovery in his own time. It was not as if the Autobot loss could be prevented by challenging him early on.

He looked back over the gathered data, spark heavy in his chest as he realized he had no other choice than to conclude that his frame had been botnapped by the Decepticons, wiped of his former life, and turned against them. 

Those memories, that life, they were gone forever. Soundwave would have seen to that. The fact that he'd missed these records was almost a miracle. 

And Jazz... 

Jazz still loved him.

Improbable as it was, he loved Jazz again. He had no doubt that the spark familiarity was what had drawn him to Jazz, but Jazz himself had done the rest.

And Soundwave ... Soundwave had tolerated, even encouraged it. There was no way the host didn't know exactly what was going on. Even if Jazz was hard to read, Prowl knew that he wasn't. He reveled in how easily Soundwave read him, how completely Soundwave knew him.

No, that Jazz had been allowed close was no accident or oversight.

What now, though?

Go home and act like nothing had happened? Prowl _liked_ his life. It wasn't perfect, and there were plenty of problems, but he had a _family_ and a bonded who loved him. 

...Two bondeds. 

Prowl groaned and pressed his palms to his helm. Jazz had to know that his mate, the Prowl he'd known, was gone. It had been enough of a loss to affect his performance, and knowing him now and knowing his record, he had to have been in an unbelievable amount of pain for it to show. 

So why put himself through it again, torture himself with a mech who looked and sounded and felt like his dead mate, who already had a bonded? What was Jazz gaining, or planning to gain?

That ... that was something Jazz would have to answer. Prowl didn't have the information needed to calculate it.

With a deep draw of atmosphere, Prowl began to collect all his finds, stored them in his subspace and pinged Soundwave to say he was headed home.

He received a warm caress in answer, then closed himself off for the drive. 

* * *

Prowl got home both physically and mentally exhausted from spending the entire drive thinking about what he'd found and the conclusions it had all led him to. Soundwave, the cassettes, and Jazz were all waiting quietly as he stepped inside. 

He looked at them in silence, and then walked into the berthroom and sank down onto the berth with a heavy x-vent. 

After a moment, Soundwave and Jazz joined him.

"I found the truth," Prowl said quietly as he sank into a contented closeness between them.

Soundwave's field shuddered, and Jazz's pressed closer. 

"What truth?" Soundwave asked quietly, his hands clenched in his lap.

"About where my frame and spark came from," Prowl told him calmly. "That this frame once belonged to a Praxian Enforcer who turned Autobot. One who was legally bonded to Jazz long before I bonded to Soundwave."

Neither Soundwave or Jazz said anything, and Prowl looked right at Jazz. "It's true, isn't it," he said. "I was your mate. Tell me if I'm wrong." 

"It's true," Jazz said, and hesitantly reached up to touch Prowl's face. "They took you down during a battle, and then ... you were gone. He was gone. And you came online in his frame."

"With his spark, his processors, his base coding. How different are we?" Prowl asked quietly.

"Not very," Jazz admitted with a short laugh. "Just who ya fought for, what he made ya do."

"Why get so close to me again?" Prowl asked almost gently. "The truth. It wasn't as if there was a war to win anymore."

"Ah--" Jazz glanced away, up to Soundwave, and then down. "Missed ya. Thought life could be better than that." 

Prowl gently tipped Jazz's face so their optics met. "Is that all?"

"Thought ah'd die, havin' ta watch ya an' never touch ya again," Jazz whispered. "War's over, got nothin' left except gettin' ya back."

"And you have me, but you'll never have him back," Prowl said softly. "Even if you uploaded all you and he shared, it won't bring him back. What more do you want? Why did you lead me to seeking the truth?"

"Why isn't that enough?" Jazz asked.

"Because there is no benefit to leading me to the truth if all you wanted was to be with me," Prowl said firmly.

"Heh. Same ol' Prowler," Jazz said, and grinned. "Ya got the audial'a the boss. Ah got inta this for Cybertron. This is the only way ta keep doin' that."

Prowl scowled. "And just what plans do you have for Cybertron that still apply?"

"Do I _need_ a plan that isn't 'make things better?'" Jazz asked, pulling away and scowling in answer.

Prowl groaned and flopped back on the berth. "Only the one that says 'get Prowl riled and pointed in that direction'. I'm sure that was true last time as well."

"Oh, _that's_ the plan ah need?" Jazz snapped at him. "If ya think so, happy ta oblige. What should ah pointcha at?"

" _That_ is what I've been asking for," Prowl growled back at him. "Surely you understand just how _poorly_ I take having mission parameters withheld."

Jazz cycled his vents, hands clenched into fists in his lap. "Not sure y' ready," he finally said. "Neither of ya."

Prowl groaned again, but his field settled. He could work with that. He hadn't always been of a rank where he could always have full access. He hated it with a passion, but he could accept it.

"Prowl: is not angry with Soundwave?" the host asked with a hint of confusion.

"You did your job, did what you were ordered to," Prowl looked over at his other mate. "I can't hold that against you. You've been nothing but good to me since I first booted up."

Soundwave glanced at Jazz, then drew back both mask and visor, making the slave stare, but the host kept his own gaze fixed firmly on Prowl. "I did not intend to court you until I knew you," he said. The words were labored, carefully layered one onto the next in the foreign speech pattern, but he pressed on. "The courtship, our lives, everything that was not related to your reformat was true."

"I know," Prowl kept his optics locked with Soundwave's as his field reached out, expressing physically what his mind openly reinforced. "I love you, Soundwave." He paused and looked at Jazz. "As I love Jazz." His gaze returned to Soundwave, steady and deep. "Whatever else comes our way, I would have the three of us make _us_ work."

"Agreed," Soundwave said. 

"Y' takin' this well," Jazz said, cocking his head at Prowl, then Soundwave. "Both of ya."

"I've had time to process in stages," Prowl said quietly as he reached out in a silent request for Soundwave to join him in lying down on the berth, then drew Soundwave's helm to his chest, over his spark. "I suspect you've been guiding Soundwave on much the same journey, with most of the same edits." He extended one hand for Jazz to join him as well.

Jazz slipped his hand into Prowl's, threading their fingers together before squeezing and looking at the unpleasant contrast of white and gray. "Don' know whatcha mean," he murmured as he lay down and pressed against Prowl. "Ah'm just a slave."

Prowl gave a hum of acceptance, even though all three knew he didn't believe it. "Recharge, my mates. We still have much to work out, but I am worn out."

"Prowl: rest," Soundwave said, and Jazz hummed in agreement, and it took less than a klik for Prowl to fall offline. 

Jazz sighed, then murmured, "'S weird." He tapped his fingers for a moment, then reached out for Soundwave's hand. "Y'okay?" he asked, once the host curled his fingers around his.

"Soundwave: is ... disturbed, relieved. Soundwave: will be ... okay." The host said after struggling to put his thoughts in order as Ravage arrived to sprawl above their helms on the berth.

Jazz nodded. "Wasn't a lie with you, either," he said. "If it means anything."

Soundwave was silent a long time, his field still even for him. Just as Jazz was beginning to power down, he spoke. "Query: what does Jazz find desirable about Soundwave?"

"Mm. Prowler likes ya, an' ah trust his opinion. Ya always been fair ta the slaves, 'least that ah've seen," Jazz said. "Ya gotta good spark. Ya jus' chose the wrong path. Coulda killed me, prob'ly _shoulda_ killed me, 'specially once..." Jazz trailed off for a moment, then shrugged. "Well. Shows there's somethin' in there an' ah wanna protect it. Guess ah grew fond'a ya 'long the way."

"Understood," Soundwave said after a moment to consider that. "Jazz: recharge well. Jazz: is safe here."

"Ah know," Jazz murmured with a smile, and slipped offline.

* * *

Jazz was waiting for him when Prowl walked into the sitting room, gray fingers curled around a cube of high grade with another one on the low table. Its placement assumed that the sitter would be on the far end of the lounge, so Prowl took the hint and settled there without a word. He looked at Jazz, trying to imagine the black helm, the visor, the blue and red highlights. 

Image captures of them dancing, before, flickered through his mind. Their colors had once complimented each other. 

Not so, now. 

"So," Jazz murmured, before taking a deep swallow. 

Prowl simply relaxed and projected calm, waiting for Jazz continue.

Jazz seemed to be waiting, too, and after a few kliks of tension he glanced at Prowl, then scowled. "Freaks me out how ... not freaked out y'are. Even if it doesn't surprise me, pit."

"Freaking out does not help," Prowl pointed out reasonably. "I will assume you are speaking about the fact that I was reformatted."

"Always the pragmatist," Jazz said with a chuckle, shooting Prowl a fond look. "If ah didn't love ya so much I'd punch ya." 

"From what I have gathered, that pragmatism is what kept the Autobots alive as a viable army for much of the war, and is what ended the war," Prowl pointed out. "What is it you wish to speak about?"

"Dunno, ya got questions, anything?" Jazz asked. "Ah mean, what's it like livin' with a spark shaped by one life while y' livin' another?"

"Frustrating," Prowl summed it up in a single glyph of deep resentment. "I despise not knowing why I react in a given way. From my understanding of you, I doubt you would notice such things. As for questions, the only important issues to me would involve information about why you respond as you do. So far I have encountered little that has not been satisfactorily explained."

"Ya mean, why ah shacked up with ya and we became _the_ token Autobot couple?" 

Prowl flicked his doorwings in affirmative. 

Jazz shrugged. "Y'wanna hear the story'a how we met?"

"If you wish to," Prowl could only offer to listen to a story that held little personal connection to _him_ , only to his lover.

Jazz's gaze flickered at the disinterested tone, and after a moment he shook his head and finished his high grade. "Nah, mech, never mind. Kiddin' myself."

"I am sorry for your loss," Prowl said quietly as he stood. "I do regret the pain I cause you by existing," he added before taking his cube of high grade to place back in storage.

Jazz watched him leave, then curled in on himself, and willingly slipped offline.


	14. Fallout

When Soundwave returned home, he would have known things had gone badly even if he hadn't heard and seen it all. Jazz was curled up on the couch, radiating hurt despite being in recharge. Prowl, his bonded, was in the berthroom curled around Ravage. While the pose was not that uncommon, the fact that Ravage was on the alert was. She gave her master a look that promised pain in Jazz's near future as she carefully extracted herself from Prowl's embrace.

It roused the Praxian, but only to the extent that he registered her leaving and Soundwave's presence. Then ice blue optics lit a bit more and Prowl offered a weak smile in greeting, an effort despite both of them being aware that his inner pain and turmoil was in the open for Soundwave to hear. One arm extended in a silent plea for comfort.

Soundwave went to him, crawling onto the berth and wrapping arms around his mate, bringing Prowl's helm against his chest and felt Prowl relax into the warmth and his field. He pushed slightly so that he was covering him as much as he could, creating a place of safety that Prowl gratefully went lax in. No matter what was going wrong, he _trusted_ Soundwave on the same level that he was sure Jazz's bonded had trusted him.

~ _My love,_ ~ Soundwave murmured across their minds, with a question. 

_What happened?_

~Love, safety, _bonded_ ,~ Prowl pressed back with all the emotional context that contained. ~You saw how I lied to Jazz, about how well I am taking learning the truth about my frame?~

~I did,~ Soundwave said, concern hovering just this side of alarm. ~Jazz: knows you lied?~

~He will work it out eventually, if he's half as good as his records indicate,~ Prowl shivered. ~He wanted to talk, about his bonded. He was so hurt when I couldn't do more than offer to listen. I can't trust him. Not knowing what I do now. I can't trust that he's seeing _me_ and not _him_.~

Comprehension flashed, and then anger, and Soundwave's grip tightened. _Why-how-stupid-foolish-wrong_ went through his field, and images of Jazz flashed into Prowl's mind. ~Jazz: misunderstood badly,~ the host said.

Prowl could only nod against Soundwave's chest, relief flooding him that he had Soundwave's support. With that relief came a rather unintended-to-share image. A mech, a flight-frame looking mech of storm grays and fine lines of lightning, much like the skies of the storm season over Vos before the war. Soundwave knew it wasn't inspired by Vos, but rather by the world on which this mech had woken. Earth.

Soundwave gently poked at the image a bit and felt the entire thought unfurl for him. A new look. A new voice. A new designation. As different from the mech that Jazz loved as Prowl could be and still keep his Praxian coding.

Soundwave nodded hesitantly. It was also a change from the Prowl _he_ knew and loved, but if it would help his mate, he could do it. ~Soundwave: is so sorry that Jazz hurt you.~

Warmth flashed back. ~If you think about it, we've had unnaturally few issues given who the three of us were and are. The change, is just a thought. I haven't determined if it is a good one or not,~ Prowl gently nudged a hardline cover with his jack so they could share actual data, something both their processors excelled in.

Soundwave accepted and traded his cable over, settling into the connection easily. ~How are you, really?~

Prowl didn't respond with glyphs at first, but rather by dropping nearly every firewall he had control of. Confused, hurt, deeply betrayed on several counts, and yet to Soundwave's carefully shielded shock, it was all directed at Jazz. Prowl put no link to those emotions on Soundwave. Soundwave was safety, support, trustworthy. Soundwave was the one Prowl depended on even now. Even with all that Soundwave had done to him in destroying his long previous life and all Prowl had fought for, Soundwave was the trusted one.

It was humbling on a deep level.

~Would Prowl: like Jazz removed?~ the host asked. He'd come to care for the slave, yes, but there was no leaving him in peace if he was going to hurt Prowl.

~Yes. No. I care for him,~ came with deep frustration. ~Can't trust him. Care for him. Maybe love him. Spark loves him. Can't tell if he loves _me_ , what he sees when he looks at me, or if I'm just a mission. Probably all three. I can live with it as all three. I need the first one. I can't be a substitute for what this frame had been.~

Soundwave nodded and kissed the top of Prowl's helm. ~Jazz: will be moved back to his closet. He will not touch or look at you until you say so.~

Prowl nodded, both regret and relief clear in his processors and field. ~I intend to speak with him. Interaction is required for this to be settled.~ Despite the words and the truth of them, there was also the strong sense that Prowl needed this control, desperately. This wasn't something his tac-net was prepared to handle. It was too tangled with emotions for its suggestions to be accepted. ~I won't be alone with him.~

~Agreed,~ Soundwave said, then drew Prowl up into a kiss that was willingly and eagerly melted into. Soft memories of pleasure, gentle times when they knew no one would see, surfaced for Prowl. ~Soundwave will ensure someone is always there. Symbiots: all have control over Jazz's collar, which will be turned back on.~

~Agreed. Ravage likes us both. She's a good mediator, and Jazz knows she'll defend me from him if she needs to.~ Prowl's thoughts turned more towards pleasure as a distraction from the stress, but also as a good way to burn off the negative charge that didn't want to go away as easily as the negative thoughts.

Soundwave agreed warmly and pushed Prowl more onto his back and climbed over him, sending the first of the flickering charges through the hardline, with the open offer for more. Prowl's shiver was far more emotional than physical and he eagerly pushed both nonsense and emotional glyphs over the line, reveling in the gentle, absolutely mutual and open nature of this pleasure. It was exactly what he needed, and Prowl gratefully melted into the bliss and the slow, soothing buildup to a whiteout.

* * *

Jazz was roused by a painful set of three slices down his arm.

"Ow, what the--" Jazz bolted online, processors trying to bring up battle protocols that had long since been scrubbed from his code. He whirled around towards the first movement and saw Ravage on the back of the lounge, fangs bared in a snarl and tail lashing. "Seriously? Wha'd ah do?"

She hissed and glared pointedly at the master berthroom, then to him, and guided his optics to the small room he'd called home for the early vorns here.

"But--" 

Ravage snarled a violent warning before leaping and clawing Jazz across the face, scratching one of his optics before he could shove her off. 

"Go away!" he snapped, but he was already on his pedes and heading for the closet. Why the pit was she that angry with him? He was the one hurting. He was the one who'd screwed up. He was the one who'd lost.

So what was _she_ so pissed about?

He growled at nothing in particular as he slipped inside his closet, slamming his fist into the wall. When he saw the felinoid dart in right before the door closed, he revved his engines in warning. The last thing he wanted was company. 

She growled right back at him, her tail lashing. She was angry, but it didn't teek right. Frustrated-angry? Protective-angry?

" _What_ is y' problem?" he demanded when she made no move to indicate one way or the other what she wanted of him.

A feline huffed and grumbled as she glared.

"But ah didn't--" Jazz started, angry and confused, then stopped, and then sank onto his berth. "Is he okay?" 

Ravage's snarl left no doubt to the answer, or just how serious that 'no' really was.

Jazz winced and drew his knees up, resting his arms on them and lowering his helm. Ravage jumped up next to him on the berth, her rumbling growl unbroken as she watched him. 

Jazz glanced sideways at her and she raised her voice in a demanding yowl. "What do ya want from _me?_ " he snarled. "It's not like there's a playbook for this kinda thing! _You_ ever hadta live with y' dead mate's frame and spark and find out he _doesn't fragging care?_ "

He barely saw the claws that came to slap his face before the impact, and it was surprisingly light. Her other paw came up and whacked him across the back of the helm as she snapped her jaws uncomfortably close before yowling again and then clicking and snarling her frustration.

Jazz shot her a baleful look. "He said he was fine, and the fact that I still love _my bonded_ shouldn't be some fragging surprise! He should know he isn't a replacement, just thought he _might_ want to hear about where we came from." He cursed sharply and slammed his fist into the wall again. " _Frag_ ah am such an idiot."

Ravage snorted and settled some, openly pleased that she'd gotten Jazz that far, but the accusing look didn't let up. 

Jazz frowned at her. "Yeah, an' say what? 'Hi Prowl, look, ah know ah'm s'posed ta know ya better than almost anyone, but y' an enigma at the best'a times and ah fragging thought ah could go ta my _lover_ for support after he _lied_ ta me?"

Ravage hissed. 

"Ah'm _tryin'_ not ta be angry, all right?" Jazz snapped. "Isn't gonna go just like that."

She grumbled softly in acquiescence of the fact that the first wronged was Jazz. It wasn't long before she stood and head-butted a rub against his shoulder.

Jazz sighed and slumped, then reached around to rub the top of her helm. "Yeah," he murmured. "'S what ah'll do, court 'im. He needs ta know it's him I see, now, and not ... _him._ Ah jus' ... ah think ah woulda been happier goin' insane, y'know?

She pressed into his hand with a deepening purr.

"Heh. Thanks. Y' boss hate me now?" 

She nodded against his chest and pressed in for more pets.

"Killed, huh?" Jazz shrugged the idea off easily. "'S all right, lived in worse places than this one. Need some time ta work myself out anyway." 

Ravage rumbled, still demanding to be petted.

"Ah'll need 'em," Jazz sighed, and shuttered his optics, leaning his helm against the wall as she settled in. She could have been a guard, if it wasn't for the fact that he was still petting her.

Not that she couldn't be both. 

Jazz slipped into a light, restless doze, happy to stop thinking again. 

The next time he came online, Ravage was gone. He experimentally tried the door and found it locked against him, to no surprise. He paced the small space once, then stretched back out on his berth and stared at the wall. 

He _was_ an idiot. So twisted up in his own head between trying to fake seduce Prowl and Soundwave into being easy to control, and trying to _actually_ seduce Prowl and Soundwave because he couldn't help himself, and needing to keep the two completely separate. 

He'd missed it completely, so used to Prowl always telling him everything. He'd forgotten how long that trust had taken to build. Even centuries after they'd shared a room and berth, on one of the first nights Jazz had been able to recharge in their berth after beginning SpecOps training, Prowl had come home after Jazz was mostly in recharge. In hindsight, Jazz realized that Prowl had done what he always did: moved with absolute silence as to not disturb him as he wiped himself down from the orn and then crawled into the berth to snuggle.

His trainer had warned him, of course, but he hadn't taken it seriously. Surely _Prowl_ wouldn't trigger him, he'd thought while nodding. 

But the paranoia, the reflexes, the changes that the Ops training had created... 

Prowl had ended up in medbay, and Jazz had been locked down and forced to watch the repairs until his trainer was satisfied that he would never dismiss a lesson again.

Prowl had insisted he was fine, that everything was okay between them, that he understood it was an accident and accidents happened.

It had taken the better part of a vorn for Jazz to realize just how complete a lie that had been. Granted, he'd been in training more than their berth that vorn, but it shouldn't have taken so long to realize when _Prowl_ instigated a radically changed behavior pattern. Never again, not to the orn he'd been taken, did Prowl move with silence near Jazz. He wasn't loud, but it was audible. Never again did he touch Jazz without being sure Jazz knew who he was. Never again did he join Jazz on the berth without being absolutely sure that Jazz was aware enough to know who was about to join him.

All the while, Prowl insisted everything was fine.

Nearly a vorn for Jazz to put together that it was a lie, and a solid three more past that before he managed to get the truth out of Prowl. That attack, that reflex, had shaken him to his core. He'd never been blindsided by anyone he'd trusted before, and it had thrown him back to the core tenants of survival in a hostile, unknown environment: show no fear.

And now, Prowl didn't even have their shared history to go off of. Jazz was a completely new element, who had, admittedly, been manipulating him and his bonded since the first orn. Jazz was a potential enemy. He might be a potential enemy that Prowl was starting to love, but that hardly changed anything. 

Prowl didn't feel safe around him, so he was hiding any weakness, and Jazz... 

Jazz banged his helm back into the wall. 

Jazz had gone and stepped right into the scrap. Prowl probably thought he _was_ just a substitute in a mixed up fantasy. He had more reason to believe that than the truth, that Jazz had forgotten that Prowl would and _should_ find anything related to his former existence distressing, if not threatening. What would Jazz think if their situations were reversed, and he was the one with a bonded he loved, was a hero who had won the war for his side, took in a POW he was drawn to only to find out that he'd been that POW's bonded and had served the entire war on the other side? Even at best, it would make _everyone_ a threat. Every last mecha was either one who had spent the war looking at him as an enemy commander, or looked at him now as a traitor of the worst kind.

To be honest, even Jazz found the thought distressing. 

Prowl would have freaked out on a level the mech didn't even know was possible. His life so far had been simple, easy, probably happy. He didn't remember Praxus, he'd won a war within a vorn of coming online.

Jazz needed a handler, desperately, and he wasn't going to get one. 

One pede at a time. Fix things with Prowl. Work on their coding. When it was all over, he could worry about things like love and happiness. He would have to start all over now, anyway. Courting, contracts, the whole thing. At least he didn't need to lie and dance around quite so many truths. It'd make it a bit easier, if no less time consuming.

There were times, Jazz thought as he curled back up, that everything would just be simpler with a pistol to the spark.

* * *

It had been three orns of mostly pressing close to Soundwave on their berth, doing what work they had to remotely if at all possible, and generally just focusing on what had Prowl so tangled up inside. Even though Soundwave knew far more intimately than any glyphs would express, Prowl still didn't believe he had expressed just how grateful he was to his bonded for all the time and effort.

After three orns, Prowl was keenly aware just how bad his emotional state was, but he was calm and settled into the fact it would take time to process. He had also accepted his bonded's assurances that he was no more a target now than he'd been before. The precautions they took out of habit were sufficient.

As for Jazz ... Prowl cringed at the thought of seeing him again, even as he acknowledged the need to. So with Soundwave home and watching but not visible, Prowl gathered his wits and will and Ravage, and walked to the small space they'd turned into Jazz's quarters. He paused at the panel, steadied himself, and ordered it to open.

::Prowl: is doing well. Soundwave: is right here.::

The voice was an anchor for him as he looked at the slave on the berth, who sat up quickly to look at him. 

"Prowl." Jazz leaned forward, but stayed seated on the berth. "Ah'm so sorry."

That ... wasn't the reaction Prowl was expecting, despite what Ravage had told him. "What are you sorry for?"

"Sorry ah scared ya," Jazz said, and looked down at his hands. "Sorry ah ... ah didn' put ya first. Didn' make ya feel loved and cared about, like y' jus a replacement, 'cause y' not. Not ta me. Ya need time, an' ah shoulda known." 

Prowl nodded, slowly, cautiously. "Because you still love him deeply, and you hoped I might want to get to know him better, because he was so important to you?"

Jazz tilted his head to the side, then sighed. "When my mate was taken away by the enemy, ah knew he was wiped. Our life, our promises, gone. Ah can't--" He pressed his hand to his chest. "Ah can't explain what that feels like. An' ah never got a chance ta try, since the enemy got a new strategist, an' our lives got a lot harder. Ah hadta take my mate's post, an' ah wasn't good at it. No one thought ah could handle it. An' then half my friends were killed, an' ah was thrown on a construction crew ta be raped by droids. An' ... then ah met you, an' ah didn' wanna, but ah fell for ya. Y' like him, but ah know y' _not_. Guess ah just ... wanted ta talk ta someone, 'cause since he died, life's been so glitched. An' ... ah wanted y' ta know about him, talk to someone about him."

Prowl nodded again, slow and careful as he processed the confession. Then, against all sanity, he asked what was in his spark. "Why didn't you steal me and wipe me? I've seen the profiles. You and your team had the skills to take me."

"Prime," Jazz said hoarsely. "The chances'a ya dyin' durin' a 'nap were too high, an' he knew ah'd take the shot if ah had a chance. He thought we could getcha back peacefully." 

Prowl could only stare for a long moment, his tac-net screeching about that concept and how improbable it was. Eventually he found his voice. "I knew Optimus Prime had a poor grasp of war and victory, but I never ... what did he think to trade for me?"

Jazz's gaze flickered, then he looked up. "He thought we were gonna win."

"Wait ... you said he believed I would be reclaimed peacefully, but victory requires breaking the peace," Prowl struggled with the contradictory statements and began to twitch.

::Prowl?::

No answer.

"He thought we would win the war, and _then_ be able ta get ya back, of your own free will," Jazz said, straightening and speaking quickly. "He didn't understand." 

~Prowl!~ Soundwave's mind pressed into Prowl's and forced the logic loop to break even as Prowl took in Jazz's words to so it himself. It ended when Prowl's frame lost its lockdown to keep him standing and he swayed. With one hand reached out to the wall to steady himself and Ravage providing support until Soundwave's hands were around him and he gratefully leaned back into the warm, strong frame.

"What ... was ... my processors hurt," Prowl rubbed the shield of his chevron.

"Here, lemme," Jazz said, and he was suddenly in front of Prowl with his hands up. 

The Praxian flinched back in alarm and Jazz quickly stepped back. 

"Okay, okay, not ready," he said, and moved further away when Soundwave's glare hit him. "Y' went for a ride, mech. Used'ta hitcha real bad like that all the time, even 'cause'a others doin' stupid slag. We thought it was a programming glitch."

Soundwave gently drew Prowl back. "Extreme illogic: not comprehendible by tac-net," he murmured gently to his bonded. "Soundwave: can fix."

Prowl nodded slightly and willingly leaned into the host as they left one very surprised saboteur in his small room.

Jazz bit down on his lip to keep himself from begging the host to leave Prowl with him. He knew the steps, they'd worked them out together. When he tasted processed energon in his mouth, he sank down onto the berth. 

It was a start. A rocky, interrupted, dysfunctional start, but still a start.

* * *

"Heya," Jazz said, brightening as Prowl walked in two orns later. "How's y' head? First bad glitch?"

"First glitch at all," Prowl nodded. "Most unpleasant."

"Had one once," Jazz said, tapping at his own helm. "Fraggin' terrifyin'. Soundwave gonna be able ta help?"

Prowl nodded, but Jazz definitely had his curiosity now. "What caused your glitch?"

"Made it myself," Jazz said. "Tangled myself all up tryin'ta keep myself separate from the Ops. Couldn't do it. My mate--he got 'em, too, knew his way around code--he broke me out."

Prowl cocked his helm, his doorwings giving a curious twitch. "You were attempting to create profiles to switch between at will, by yourself?"

"Yeah," Jazz said with a rueful chuckle. "Guess it sounds kinda silly now."

"Suicidal would be my assessment," Prowl shook his helm, but his doorwings gave an amused twitch, just like they had after the first incident was over and Jazz was fine again. "Why not go to a specialist for such work?"

"Ah was young, cocky, stupid," Jazz said with a shrug. "An' ah didn't like mecha in my head."

"That I can understand well enough," Prowl sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Why did you become an Autobot?"

Jazz sighed, tilting his helm back. "Planet was goin' ta scrap, rebellions everywhere, an' when Praxus went down ... didn't feel like there was much of a choice ta be made. Autobots fueled us and trained us. Turned out we both had knacks for what they needed."

Prowl gave a hum. "I suppose it would be unconscionable for a Praxian who'd survived it to turn to those who leveled the city as well. It was neutral or Autobot, and the Autobots had the better offer."

"Definitely," Jazz said, and then slowly reached over to the top of the berth for his harp. "Ah wrote a song, if ya'd like ta hear? 'Cause ah'm an aft."

Prowl nodded and shifted away from the wall so his doorwings could spread and pick up every detail of the vibrations. Ravage made an easy hop to the berth to sit by Jazz. Out of the way but close enough to stop him in an instant.

"Thanks," Jazz said with an easy grin, and started playing, a light melody, relaxed pace, notes that were sweet and clear. "'S what ah think you'd be like, put ta music," he murmured after a while. His smile was genuine at the lifted doorwings. Prowl was listening, really listening.

"It is ... beautiful," Prowl finally managed to find a glyph he found good enough.

"'Zactly," Jazz said with a glance and smile. He remained quiet after that, his apparent absent plucking of strings actually chosen carefully to help Prowl process. It wasn't a song, but it was a soothing, steady, mostly repeating rhythm. He knew Prowl would say something more, but it was pointless to push him. Pushing was what had gotten Jazz locked up again, and he wasn't making that mistake again. He was grateful that Ravage understood what he was doing and allowed it as well.

She shot him a look that conveyed it all: _you do right by him and I'm on your side._

"You find me beautiful?" Prowl eventually asked, a bit shaky but determined.

"Y' took me in, didn't think'a y'self when ya did," Jazz said. "Ya always been fair ta everyone that ah've seen, y' loyal, ya care about mecha. An' somehow, despite everything, y' still so young an' bright. Yeah, ah find ya beautiful." 

Prowl glanced down. "I was only thinking of myself when I brought you here."

"Haven't been raped since ya brought me here," Jazz murmured, gaze on his own fingers. "No matter why ya did it." 

Prowl opened his mouth to object, then closed it and looked at Jazz for a lingering moment. "I suppose that stands on the legal definition. I would argue that it does not stand on the moral one," he said quietly. "It has been a while since I believed I was using you, but I did early on."

"Only one time without my consent, an' we both know ah drove ya to it," Jazz said. His helm remained stubbornly lowered. "If ah'd said no, ever once told ya t' stop, ah know ya woulda. Y' that kind'a mech. Seen the way ya look at the slaves. Isn't like the 'Cons that hurt 'em."

"I'm still coded an Enforcer," Prowl said the only thing he could to explain the difference, anything but the fact that his frame and spark still very much knew the mech before him. "We are coded not to find enjoyment in the suffering of others."

"Like ah said," Jazz said with a shrug. "Beautiful."

Prowl was silent again, and Jazz allowed it. A silent Prowl was a thinking Prowl, and thinking was a good thing. Eventually Prowl sighed deeply. "Why did you try to tell me about how you met your mate?"

Jazz's fingers stopped, and he hugged the harp to his chest. "Thought y' might wanna hear. Ah wanted ta tell someone who would care. Bad idea, ah get it, 'm an insensitive aft."

"I think I would like to hear, when I feel steady about us," Prowl admitted softly, looking down rather than to the mech who still had so much control of his spark.

Jazz nodded. His fingers curled tighter around the spine of his instrument. "Y' should go," he whispered. "Wanna think about him for a while an' ah don't wanna get the two mixed up again."

Prowl nodded and turned, but glanced over his shoulder at the door. "I'll never hold your love for him against you," he said quietly before the panel closed and Jazz was alone with Ravage. She shifted to rest her jaw on his leg.

Jazz shuddered and set his harp carefully aside, then reached around to bring her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "Tell me if it's too tight," he mumbled, needing something to hold onto. 

She licked his face reassuringly, then nuzzled against him and settled in until Jazz was ready to let go.

* * *

Jazz was sprawled on his back on the small berth, absently strumming a tune on his harp when he heard the panel slid open and Prowl's whisper quiet steps. The mech didn't say anything, simply stood and listened. He kept playing, slowly altering the song into something lighter and smoother, acknowledging Prowl's presence without making him feel pressured. After a little while, he brought his optics online to look over at him.

"You play pleasurable music," Prowl offered the best compliment he could think of.

Jazz smiled. "Thanks, mech," he said, and sat up, setting his harp aside. "Always liked playin'. Well, was always good, anyway, and it got fuel in my tanks. Then mecha liked it, an' ah learned ta love it."

Prowl slowly moved to sit next to Jazz and looked at him. "What did you love before that?"

Jazz shrugged. "Don't remember anymore, feels like lifetimes ago." He leaned his head against the wall and regarded Prowl. "Must be strange, bein' so young around everyone. Is it strange?"

"I don't really have anything to compare it to, though it is frustrating not to have the history that it seems everyone shares, Decepticon, neutral and Autobot. It is not just a culture I don't share with them, but an experience that defined every aspect of their existence," Prowl answered. "The handful that have been reformatted are my generation, and there are not many of us. I've tried to keep in contact with them, to ensure they are not too alienated by the type of mecha that dominate the population. Soundwave shielded me, and now I shield them, such as I can."

"Yeah?" Jazz mused. "Yeah, guess so. Never thought about it that way. How're they doin', the newbies? Lucky ta have ya, bet."

"I expect so. All are currently working and productive in their duties, and seem to be content enough. They are the least rebellious of everyone, including Decepticons. It allows me more access to them, as Lord Megatron views them as an asset to be watched. I do not believe he understands what it means to know nothing but _now_."

"Can't say any of us do," Jazz said with a huffing laugh. "One'a the things makes ya so attractive, ah think. 'S a new look on things. No baggage, no grief."

"Your mate, he carried a lot of grief with him?" Prowl took a guess that wasn't really a guess and carefully reached out to set his hand next to Jazz's leg. Just close enough that the edge of finger touched, but no more.

"Yeah," Jazz sighed. "Watchin' Praxus burn, changed somethin' in him." He shifted his leg a little, then his fingers brushed over the top of Prowl's hand. He met Prowl's optics. "But ah don' wanna think about him right now. Ah wanna think about you." 

Prowl nodded and allowed his field to welcome the touch. "If you were allowed, would you wipe your pain away?"

Jazz stilled, and was quiet for nearly a klik. "Ah ... no, ah don' think so. Love's tied up with the pain, don' wanna lose that."

Prowl gave a thoughtful hum, then nodded. "If you had a government to design, from the ground up, what would you focus on?"

"What?" Jazz asked, laughing, as he looked at Prowl. "Mech ya know that ain't for me, ah'm a grunt, come right down ta it. Ah want everyone free ta live and let live. S'all ah ever wanted." 

"You are far more than a grunt," Prowl cracked a knowing and lightly teasing smile. "Head of Special Operations, and very, very good at it. You're smarter than most mecha still functioning, and far more useful, you are creative in real time." With the words his hand crept up until it rested on Jazz's thigh.

"Give ya that," Jazz said, breathless. His helm tilted back, exposing his throat. "Compared ta you, though, 'm a grunt. Took us down in a vorn, ah couldn't stop ya."

"You were hobbled, I was not," Prowl gave a low chuckle as he slid his hand upwards until his fingertips just brushed the edge of Jazz's spike cover, where he stopped and stroked the seam. When Jazz shivered he leaned towards him to place a light kiss along exposed neck cabling as his fingers slid along Jazz's hip joint. "I do not like my odds against you without that."

"'Pends on how much time there was ta plan," Jazz said with a grin and a hitch of his vents. His legs fell apart and he arched up, hand moving up Prowl's frame to touch his hip.

"Mmm, perhaps," Prowl murmured against pliant neck cables as his hand found the sweet spot on Jazz's back and he leaned over him a bit more. "You are correct about something. Say no and I will stop. I'm not as sure as you are about early on, but now I will."

"You woulda," Jazz managed. "'M not gonna say no." His hand pushed inward, playing along the hip joint as he did, heading towards Prowl's pelvis. With effort, he got his free hand up to Prowl's face and lifted his head, meeting his optics. "Never woulda said no ta ya then 'cause ah missed my mate. Never gonna say no ta ya now 'cause ah want _you._ "

Prowl turned his helm to kiss the hand there, then leaned further forward to kiss Jazz's mouth, a soft, chaste contact that only heightened the pleasures their fingers created. Slowly Prowl drew back. "Then tell me what _you_ would enjoy most right now."

"Heh." Jazz chased the kiss down for another few moments as his hand went to Prowl's spike cover and felt it open immediately. He rubbed his palm against the housing as Prowl shivered and the spike began to emerge. Jazz's other hand lowered to cover Prowl's and pushed it over his newly-bared valve, rubbing lightly. He moaned when Prowl's fingers curled inward to probe the silky depths, encouraging lubricant and revving himself up.

Jazz eagerly slid his hand along the emerging spike until it clicked into place and Prowl was rutting against his hand.

"Want ya ta spill inside me," Jazz whispered, and groaned when Prowl's mouth went back to his neck. He could feel and teek how hot this was getting his mark, his lover, and kept going as Prowl nudged him to lay down on the berth so Prowl could settle fully over him. "Ya feel so good inside me. Please, make me scream."

"Yes. Mine," Prowl growled into a moan as he drew his hand away, then pressed the lubricant coated fingers into Jazz's mouth as he slowly, so slowly, pressed into Jazz's frame.

Jazz moaned, long and low around Prowl's fingers as his fingers clenched into fists around the padding. His frame bowed upwards against Prowl and he shuddered as he was stretched. Primus it felt good. It always felt good with Prowl when they weren't putting on a show for Megatron, but this felt better than most.

Prowl had forgiven him. There was no way the tactician would allow himself the vulnerability of an overload if he didn't feel safe enough.

Slow and controlled, Prowl slid in and out while Jazz licked his fingers clean. At some point he pulled them out and used that hand to brace himself while he continued the rolling thrusts that Jazz knew well could drive him to two, even three overloads on occasion before Prowl succumbed to the friction. It was one of the many markers that Jazz knew signaled Prowl need to be in control and what worked best when he was in that mood was to relax into it, moan, whisper endearments and dirty desires, and let Prowl take him on the ride.

When Prowl finally did seize and shudder over him, inside him, Jazz was a limp, panting, strutless puddle. He bit down on his lip as a fourth overload squirmed through his frame, whimpering in delight as Prowl cried out his designation and shot deep inside. 

Prowl collapsed, and Jazz's mouth found his for a messy, exhausted kiss. When they pulled away, their optics were bright, searching each other as Jazz pressed a hand to Prowl's face, and Prowl stared back.

"That was nice," Jazz whispered wonderingly.

"Yes," Prowl pressed into the touch, his processors still a bit scattered by the intense overload. "I missed it, missed you."

"Me too," Jazz said, brushing his thumb over Prowl's mouth. The kiss he got made his vents hitch. "Sorry ah fragged it all up." 

Prowl hummed thoughtfully, still resting over Jazz as their armor pinged and systems cooled. "I expect someone old and wise once said that no relationship is without difficult times."

Jazz smiled, glanced away, then looked back. "'Spect so," he murmured, then pulled Prowl's helm to his chest and sighed. "Stay?"

With a soft sound Prowl relaxed his frame. "For a while, yes."

Jazz made a small, relieved sound, and was offline in kliks. 

* * *

Jazz wasn't entirely sure how to feel when he heard Soundwave enter his closet, and pretended to be in recharge for just a little while as he worked it out some. 

Any undercover op like this always required a certain amount of self-deception. Agents learned how to play themselves as well as they played their marks. But agents in such an arrangement had talented handlers familiar with their baselines, and no one went into something as personal as this was to Jazz. 

Yes, Jazz was good. Probably the best still living, and easily one of the best in all of Cybertron's history. 

But he wasn't perfect, and not immune to the lure of the game. 

So what he _really_ felt for Soundwave...

Jazz brought his optics online and looked at the host. 

It was impossible to say.

"Soundwave: wants the truth." The host opened the conversation. "Jazz: will provide the truth."

"Sky's blue, slag's slagged, an' minibots are little," Jazz said with a grin and a shrug. He was sure Soundwave rolled his optics behind that visor.

"Jazz: will drop firewalls and allow Soundwave in." The host rephrased.

"Hmm." Jazz appeared to think about it for a few moments, then shook his head. "Nah."

"Jazz: wishes to see Prowl again."

"Y' point, Sounders?"

"Jazz: will not see Prowl unless Jazz cooperates." Soundwave said flatly.

Jazz rolled his optics, then unspiraled his primary port. "Fine."

Soundwave made short work of plugging in and only gave the primary contents a cursory scan before heading for the emotional protocols and poking at 'Prowl' with recent dates more firmly than was at all polite.

~How 'bout some flowers first, yeah?~ Jazz said with an annoyed grunt. He felt Soundwave filter through all the available files. Memories of his mate, guilt at hurting Prowl, the heavy progression of falling in love with him. Everything his cover would be thinking.

Everything Jazz really was thinking whenever Prowl was anywhere near him.

~Jazz: exceptional undercover agent. Soundwave: will protect Prowl.~ The host began a slow, more methodical examination of the rest of the mindspace. 

It contained everything anyone looking would expect to find in Jazz's processors, right down to a central memory core. It was all fake, of course, except for the personal details needed to make it pass inspection, but Soundwave didn't need to know that. Jazz was all too aware that Soundwave was one of the few mecha who had been in this fake core and figured it out. Granted, that had been under wartime interrogation standards, but it still meant that Soundwave was one of the very few mecha who had the potential to see it again.

Jazz saw it the moment Soundwave found something that alerted him. He still didn't know _what_ Soundwave picked up, but he saw the reaction.

Tolerant, half amused annoyance? A thought reference to Rumble and Frenzy too.

~Gonna get them up in here, too?~ Jazz asked, no outward reaction.

~Negative,~ Soundwave responded as he backed out. "Jazz: will open his real processors now."

Jazz scowled at him. "What do ya think _that_ was?"

"Alternant core to hide behind." Soundwave paused. "Jazz: is afraid of Soundwave?"

"Nope," Jazz said, and unhooked Soundwave from his chest. "'Fraid 'a the mecha that commissioned ya. And we're back ta nope, or at least gimmie a damn good reason. Like Cybertron will explode if ya don't reason." 

"Mecha who commissioned Soundwave: long since deactivated," Soundwave pointed out as he regarded the slave he was looming over, only to shit to sit next to. "Soundwave: more dangerous than city bureaucrats," he said as he spooled his cable.

"Yeah, ah _know_ that," Jazz said. "But the mecha that commissioned ya asked for a very _specific_ kinda worker, ya get me? One kinda like how ah was before ya pulled me offa the line, only with less backtalk, yeah?"

Soundwave mulled that over for a long three kliks and Jazz let him. "Soundwave: far more specialized. Valued: less." He paused again, then continued. "Coded: to obey."

"Ah _heard_ that vocalizer lock ya got on ya," Jazz said. "Ah know what kinda code that comes with. Still haven't given me a reason, and threatening to separate me an' Prowler won't cut it. Ya know he'll find me." 

"Jazz: underestimates Prowl's self control," Soundwave said with a hint of a growl in his engines. "If Soundwave: asks Prowl not to see Jazz, Prowl will not see Jazz." 

Jazz glanced at him dubiously. "Ya wouldn't really do that, though." 

Soundwave looked back, a silent, unwavering, _Try me._

Jazz frowned. He was not a fan of how this was going. "Ah've got a condition." 

Soundwave waited. 

"Ya gotta answer some questions first," Jazz said, straightening up. "Truthfully. No talkin', just answerin', until ah'm done. Got it?" 

"Agreed," Soundwave said. "Jazz: may begin." 

"How's the economy?" 

"Unstable and degrading."

"And how's the average mecha doin'?" 

Soundwave hesitated as he went over the data he had "Status: poorer than before the war," he admitted reluctantly.

"How about relations between Neutrals and 'Cons?" 

"Antagonistic."

"Our image in the local galaxy?" 

"Unknown," Soundwave admitted after a pause. "Most probable: not good."

"What are the chances of ending up at war and destroying ourselves for good if we continue like this?"

Soundwave quivered, having to fight to speak. "Inevitable."

Jazz nodded, looking right into Soundwave's visor. "Was this Megatron's dream?" 

"Negative," Soundwave controlled his reaction tightly.

"Are ya loyal ta Megatron's dream?"

"Affirmative," was said much easier, the answer one he and his coding agreed with to its core.

Jazz's voice turned to ice. "Should Megatron rule?"

Soundwave's vocalizer gave several unhappy clicks, and if Jazz hadn't been paying very close attention he would not have seen the tiny shift of Soundwave's helm in the negative. Or at least that was the probable movement.

Jazz watched him carefully for a few moments, then inclined his helm and opened his dataport again. 

Soundwave took a klik to collect himself, and plugged in. He was more cautious this time, well aware of his emotional state and how it made him vulnerable. Yet this was what he wanted, to be sure that Jazz did not intend harm to Prowl. With that intention clear, Jazz moved back, powered his defenses down, and sat calm and still as the host filed through his code. The lack of malice or violence intended against Prowl was clear in every thought and memory of him. Everything Jazz was doing, would make a better world and life for all three of them.

All three of them.

Soundwave stopped there when he felt the truth of it, and he couldn't completely hide his shock that he was included in Jazz's intentions on such an intimate level. Jazz remained silent and passive as Soundwave resumed his careful examination, leaving no line of the chaotic mess untouched, and yet not a single glyph was out of place when he backed out to settle near the surface.

~Who living: can defrag your processors?~ Soundwave asked, actual care behind it. ~Soundwave: capable. Other: preferred?~

Jazz's field flickered. ~Ah trust Mirage an' Whiplash ta do it. Think Whiplash's dead.~

~Whiplash: unconfirmed. Deactivation: probable given lack of activity. Whiplash: ... was a worthy opponent.~ Soundwave allowed a moment of stillness for the departed. ~Mirage: ... may be available.~

~'Raj was a toy in a sleazy dive last ah saw,~ Jazz said bitterly. ~Bein' punished for all the noble race.~

~Thundercracker: claimed Mirage.~ 

It took a moment for Jazz, and then his hands clenched around Soundwave's and the saboteur stared at the host in first disbelief, and then joy. ~He got out of there? He's safe? Please tell me that he's safe. What does Thundercracker do ta him?~

~Mirage: kept repaired and functional. Mirage: rebuilt to look somewhat as he did before. Thundercracker: likes his berthmate pretty. Thundercracker: has simple desires. Abuse: limited.~ Soundwave answered as best he could.

Jazz shuddered. ~Thank you,~ he said, and sounded close to breaking. 

~Jazz: will permit Soundwave to assist?~ he asked and offered.

But Jazz pulled back, and shook his head as firewalls slammed up around his datacore. ~No offense, Sounders, but ah don't wanna risk it. Ah trust ya an' all, but, y'know.~

The host simply inclined his helm and drew the rest of the way out before unplugging. "Door: will remain unlocked," he said as he stood. "Jazz: no longer on probation."

Jazz straightened, grinning. "Serious?" He jumped up to his pedes. "No more pickin' the lock?"

This time Jazz was sure Soundwave rolled his optics. "Jazz: behaves better than Rumble or Frenzy. Continue that."

"But ah _coulda_ picked the lock!" Jazz called after him before the door closed.

* * *

Jazz knocked on the wall as he peeked around the door into the berthroom, once he knew Soundwave was out of the house. Prowl was sitting inside, staring down at datapads, but looked up at the sound. 

Jazz gave a half grin. "Look who's outta the crate."

Prowl gave him a small smile. "Soundwave mentioned it, shortly before he left."

"Yeah." Jazz ducked his helm for a moment, rubbing the back before glancing up. "Y'up for some company? Ravage hasn't assaulted me yet, so ah figured..."

"You are welcome," Prowl motioned to a sitting arrangement and the berth, giving Jazz freedom to choose, while making it clear that Prowl didn't want a mech in his lap right away. "She's there, by the way," Prowl made a motion to one of the multiple cubby spots near the ceiling.

"Ah," Jazz said, glancing up and making note of the spot. Cautious of it, he crossed over to Prowl and pulled a cube out of subspace and placed it on the desk in front of the Praxian, before going to the lounge with enough room for one other and flopping down on it. He made a show of stretching even as Ravage snickered at him for his caution. "Sweet freedom," he said with a grin, not at all hiding the irony of the statement.

Prowl chuckled with an amused twitch of his doorwings before taking a sip, and making a surprised sound that mingled with pleasure. "This tastes very good."

"Yeah, well," Jazz said with a shrug. "Y'ain't exactly hard ta predict. Ah just spiced y' mix up a bit."

"Quite true," Prowl agreed smoothly. "I am as fond of normal and stable as you are of the new and chaotic."

"Ah like new, ah'm good at handlin' chaotic," Jazz corrected with a hum, watching Prowl take another sip. He smiled. "Thanks, for not throwin' me out."

"Beyond the political risks of doing so, I am not devoid of empathy," Prowl said softly. "The questions created by knowing and hearing about him _hurt_ , but I can not fault you for loving and missing a mate of so long."

Jazz shrugged. "Ah shoulda thought it out more. Anyway. Jus' wanted ta see ya, an' give ya that."

"Thank you," Prowl took another sip, and when Jazz didn't bring anything else up, he went back to his datapads.

Despite that, Jazz could see in the angle of his doorwings that Prowl was quite content to have him there. He pulled out a datapad and crossed one leg over the other, just as content to relax and read. After a while, he switched the datapad for his harp. "Ya mind?" he asked.

Prowl gave a querying shift of his doorwings instead of turning to look, then they stilled into a relaxed posture. "I do not object," Prowl's voice held a quiet note of encouragement. "I enjoy your playing."

Jazz smiled and started playing one of the new melodies he'd written locked in the closet. Easy and light, perfect for relaxing. It was composed with this in mind, to be a comfortable background note when Prowl was working. A bit repetitive, but smooth and with just enough variance to be interesting and pleasing to listen to. He'd also shamelessly used his extensive knowledge of Prowl's internal and sensory harmonics to best effect. He wanted Prowl to relax, but not to the extent where he felt the need to stop working before he was ready to.

It was only when Prowl gave a pleased sound, shut down and locked his datapads and joined Jazz on the lounge with a warm, comfortable field did the song change. It slowed, the notes shifted to a deeper and richer tone. Jazz let his optics flicker offline and he relaxed his field against Prowl. It felt good to relax and play, and teek Prowl's relaxing pleasure against him. With his optics off, it wouldn't be difficult to forget when and where he was, but Jazz made sure not to. He focused on what made this Prowl so different. A teek of relative youth, a lack of pain, a lack of grief. During the war, no matter how good things were, it was impossible to completely forget what the loss of Praxus had done to Prowl.

This Prowl had never suffered those things, and in many ways Jazz relished that the mech he loved was in so much less pain. By some miracle, lucky break, or act of Primus, this spark didn't remember the suffering it had endured. It felt good, and it felt even better when Prowl relaxed more and leaned against him. The low, soft hum of his systems was its own kind of music and Jazz reveled in hearing it cycle into calm recharge because of him.


	15. Balancing Act

Jazz was lounging in the berthroom while Prowl worked when they both perked up. Prowl was turning to look at Jazz when Jazz had worked out the message.

_Visitor incoming_

It wasn't Megatron at least, but it was still a Decepticon and that meant Jazz needed to be in his dark box. He got up and stretched, taking advantage of what might be the last moments for some joors to come of being able to move and made his way over. If it wasn't Megatron, he didn't really care who was visiting. He'd be able to listen in as long as they stayed in the living room, which was normal for the few visitors they had. Prowl's gaze on him made him a bit warm while he settled into the harness, slid his valve cover open, relaxed his jaw for the short hard rubber cylinder that would hold it open and commanded the slide to close him in.

The darkness was lit only by his optics, and Jazz allowed himself a klik to gradually dim them to off and focused solely on his hearing. It was five more kliks before Prowl opened the door and greeted Thundercracker. As Jazz processed that, he realized that there were three sets of pedesteps coming into the living room; two very quiet and one the heavy movement of the Seeker.

Prowl, he knew. The other... 

His spark twisted in his chamber. He _knew_ that rhythm. The weight was off, so was the balance, but that was Mirage. 

_That was Mirage._

It took some work not to twist free of the cage and run to him.

"How did you acquire permission to make him look so normal?" Prowl's voice dragged Jazz's attention to the conversation going on and he latched onto it as the help he needed to play his part.

"Appearance has always been important to me," Thundercracker said. "I just had to explain to Lord Megatron that my toys' aesthetics are equally as important as their function. Of course the red had to stay, and he has to wear the leash in public, but getting the repairs and paint wasn't hard." Thundercracker chuckled. "Expensive, but not hard."

"I'm sure it helped that you claimed one of relatively low rank," Prowl almost chuckled. "Ours isn't just any slave. He wants it _punished_. Occasionally annoying, but I enjoy having it close." There was a pause that Jazz knew was Prowl playing up thinking. "Since your visit is more business than pleasure, why don't we have both serve us? It will give mine a look at what a good slave can acquire."

"Is yours not a good slave?" Thundercracker asked curiously.

"Oh, most of the time," Prowl walked over to activate the control that opened Jazz's tiny cell. "Lord Megatron enjoys it living like this too much for us to modify the arrangement."

"I see," Thundercracker hummed as the mouthpiece pulled away. 

For Jazz, it was a challenge not to scramble free. He wasn't sure about how much of this Megatron would eventually see, so he allowed himself to flinch away from the light and spit out some garbled, confused glyphs at Prowl. His optics darted erratically, expressing outwardly the chaos and confusion that would have been in his mind after vorns like this. It allowed him to take in the set of Thundercracker's wings -- disgust -- and the far more subtle hints of Mirage's reaction -- somewhere between horror and joy.

"Up," Prowl ordered calmly when Jazz managed to focus on him. "I know you can walk."

"Y'wan'--poke'm, berth?" Jazz stuttered as he got up, neck twisted down and to the side. His valve was still exposed, and he triggered a rush of lubricant to leak down inside his legs.

"Show Thundercracker's slave where the high grade is. It will be serving us," Prowl said instead of answering, then turned to sit in his favorite chair in full control of his frame to display that this was unusual, but nothing extraordinary.

Jazz nodded absently and started a slow, limping gait in the direction of the storage space. Mirage followed silently, his field barely more than a whisper against Jazz's, and very still. 

Jazz knew exactly why they were getting high grade, of course. The small storage closet had no dedicated surveillance. 

The instant they were out of range from any of the cameras, Jazz straightened, turned, and grabbed Mirage to pull him into a hard embrace. _Relief_ throbbed through his field and catching the overjoyed sobs before they escaped his vocalizer was only partially successful.

Mirage stood stock still for a startled moment, them trembled in his own relief before pawing rather rudely at Jazz's hardline port, his jack already in hand.

"Do ah get a hello first?" Jazz tried to tease, voice not quite stable, as he pulled Mirage into the storage closet and accepted the cable, clicking his own in in turn. ~Frag, 'Raj, thought ya were still in that pit until Soundwave told me.~ His hands clenched around his former SIC's helm and he brought their forehelms to press against each other.

~Thundercracker saved me. Demands little. How are you here, really?~ Mirage's deep concern was equally divided between Soundwave and the reformatted Prowl.

~Ah'm good, ah'm good,~ Jazz hurried to assure him. ~Gotta keep up the act so Soundwave can have enough material for Megatron ta see--he thinks ah live in that box. Workin' 'em both over, 'Raj, ah'm _close_. Prowl thinks Megatron is unsuitable for power, twisted Soundwave around ta be loyal ta Megatron's _dream_ instead of Megatron. _Primus_ ah can't even tell ya how glad ah am ya got outta there.~

~Likely not as relieved as I am to be out. I believe you may be closer than you believe. There's talk among my trine of removing Megatron. I'd put no credit to it if Starscream was driving it, but it's _Thundercracker_ leading the talk. Even more, Starscream doesn't actually lead the trine in private. It's Thundercracker that's the top Seeker. I haven't worked out how they make the public-private shift work, but live with them and it's clear they've been like this for a very long time.~ Mirage's field and processors quivered with relief and joy that the revolt was further along than he'd ever anticipated. ~I need to deliver their energon. Thundercracker often allows me to wander if the owner of the place doesn't mind.~

~Yeah, yeah, right,~ Jazz said as he looked around and grabbed the nicer serving platter and a crystal pitcher, then pointed towards the high grade dispenser. ~Ah'll get the caddy set up. Ah need a defrag like ya wouldn't believe once ya can.~

~I'll do my best to be back quickly,~ Mirage promised, briefly touching forehelms again before he unplugged them and filled the pitcher. A glance at the options and he selected two goblets that went with the pitcher. Nice, high quality, and while they were not Thundercracker's preferred aesthetic, Mirage had no doubt the simple geometric design did suit Prowl and Soundwave perfectly.

Jazz gave him a thumbs-up in approval and they quickly got the tray arranged together and balanced on Mirage's hand. Yellow optics set in the bright red slave stripe looked up at Jazz. "Coming with?" 

"Say ya couldn't get me outta the storage closet," Jazz said, and grinned. "Megatron thinks ah'm scared'a big rooms and bright lights."

Mirage nodded and walked out, every micron the noble he was on display in his frame. He knelt before his master, helm bowed deeply and hand lifted to offer the tray. Every motion was exactly as he'd been trained, exactly how Thundercracker and his trine wanted it. Thundercracker's turbines rumbled with his pleasure and a firm hand came to rest on top of Mirage's helm after the Seeker had flavored his goblet as desired. "You may pour." 

"Very good, my Lord," Mirage murmured, and poured the high grade and handed Thundercracker his drink before going to Prowl and repeating the procedure.

"Nicely trained," Prowl hummed when he was finished and Mirage looked to Thundercracker for direction.

"I normally allow him to move about when his duties are complete," Thundercracker looked to Prowl.

"Everything is suitably locked down," Prowl gave his consent, and Mirage was off as soon as his master flicked his wings in agreement. Leaving the two masters to talk between themselves about whatever they wished, he slipped back into the storage closet. 

"That was fast," Jazz whispered in surprise as he pulled his cable back out. "Figured he'd make ya suck them off or something."

"Apparently they have genuine business to attend to," Mirage murmured as they plugged in and exchanged digital handshakes. ~Thundercracker always handles business before pleasure. I'm sure he'll insist Prowl sample my skills before we leave.~

~Hopefully business lasts a while, then,~ Jazz said as he dropped his firewalls down to his center core and offered up the priority list of issues he was aware of. Mirage quickly flipped through them and them spread out through Jazz's processors, getting a general feel for the layout.

~You're a mess,~ he said archly. 

~Stop, you're flattering me,~ Jazz said dryly. 

~Well, you are. You're breaking your own rules. What was the first thing--~

~--Don't fall for ya own games, ah know,~ Jazz said. ~Just--untangle me, yeah? Sometimes ah can't remember which is which.~

~All right,~ Mirage said carefully as he poked at one line that was twisted and gnarled around everything else. When he saw the memories that it drew up, he frowned. ~Jazz...~

~Yeah,~ Jazz sighed. ~Yeah, ah know. He isn't the same mech anymore. Prowl's gone.~

~Good,~ Mirage said, and backed carefully out. ~Not sure how long we have, so I'm going to focus on that line and then do what else I can. I'll start a defrag when they call me back out.~

~Oh what fun,~ Jazz said with a hint of a smile and settled in. Mirage worked in silence, moving quickly but cautiously. After a while, Jazz flickered a hesitant question. ~Have you heard anything about...~

~Whiplash is gone,~ Mirage said. ~Shockwave hunted him down.~

Jazz sighed. ~Thought so.~

~Much as I wish it were different, it might be for the best,~ Mirage murmured as he worked. ~I'm not sure he could have coped with no prospect of a real Prime again. He was sparked for his function, and that was to serve Prime.~

~Yeah,~ Jazz said, slipping his hand around Mirage's and squeezing. ~Ah hafta think ... if he got caught, he was ready.~

Mirage squeezed back and they fell silent, Jazz to grieving a fresh loss learned about and Mirage to work he had far too little time to accomplish.

* * *

Mirage finished most of his work before Thundercracker summoned him through the slave collar, making it tighten in three quick bursts. 

~And I'm out,~ Mirage said as he wrapped up and unplugged. 

Jazz's collar vibrated and he stood up, stretching. "That's my call, too," he said, and shifted back into his slave persona as they made their way to the living room. Jazz held close to Mirage's shadow, playing up his fear of bright and open as they entered the living room and realized that Soundwave had come home at some point and neither of them had been summoned to get his energon, but neither had the host nor any of his cadre gone to get a cube either.

"Prowl has thought of a rather enjoyable game," Thundercracker spoke to his slave with genuine amusement and anticipation in his wings.

Jazz made a show of flinching at both the sound and the implication, and the others ignored him in perfect character.

"You will use their slave's valve while you show them how good you are with your mouth. Myself, then Soundwave, then their slave, then Prowl. Only then may you overload," Thundercracker explained. "Understood?"

"Yes, my Lord," Mirage murmured, dipping into a bow. "Thank you, my Lord." He turned towards Jazz and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him down. "My Lord orders I take your valve," he said. "Face down."

Jazz didn't struggle, after all, in his supposed regular existence this was his most common interaction. Even if Mirage wasn't the usual user of his valve, the act and position were very much normal. He hid his smile when Mirage smoothly plugged into a chest port with his wrist line as he sank into Jazz and made a show of the first few slow thrusts.

~Prowl always has been quite the voyeur,~ Mirage mused as Thundercracker stood and came around to the opposite side of the slave as Prowl and Soundwave. Prowl's spike was already half extended, but it was Soundwave's hand stroking it ever so lightly while Prowl gripped the back of the lounge, his optics locked on the forming threesome.

~That hasn't changed a bit,~ Jazz said, covering his optics with his hands and cowering from Thundercracker. ~Does he respect you?~

~Most of the time,~ Mirage answered as his field flared with hints of genuine desire as he leaned to kiss his master's spike cover. Thundercracker's approval-pleasure as it snapped open was far more clear to the slaves. ~He has bad nights, but ... I never actually told him no,~ he added as he began to kiss and lick the spike housing with lip plates and glossa.

Jazz flicked understanding across the line. ~After y' free, if he hurts you, ah'll kill him. But he gets that chance ta prove himself first.~

Warm thanks replied, along with understanding that Mirage was in a dance almost as complicated as Jazz. ~Only if I can't. I need to know ... how far I've fallen.~

Thundercracker's hands went to Mirage's helm, though the grip was light and even Jazz could tell the move was more show than control. Rumbles of approval, praise, floated down as Mirage swallowed the half-extended spike.

He hid his smile against the floor. His SIC had been working on Prowl's this whole time. Pride, relief, love all moved across the line and he felt them answered, along with the sorrowful understanding of what their lives had come to. 

The hardline let him feel how careful Thundercracker was being with his movements, no force or pain being applied as Mirage worked up and down his spike. Jazz kept his valve still to help Mirage both last and focus. While part of him wanted the data of what Thundercracker would do to his slave if he disobeyed, this was not the time for it. Now was the time to indulge Prowl, and even more, give no reason for Thundercracker and Mirage not to visit again.

The tenor of Thundercracker's rumble changed, both deepening and sharpening at the same time as turbines spun in synch with engine revving. Oh yes, flight frames ran hot and Mirage knew exactly what to do to make this one shoot off fast and be content with it.

Jazz was proud of his agent, no matter what they'd come to, and that would never change. 

"Soundwave?" Thundercracker offered once he could speak again, as Mirage cleaned his spike off with the delicate little licks that always garnered approval. 

Jazz glanced up to see Soundwave lean over to kiss Prowl's cheek before letting go of his spike and leaving his bonded to his own. Unsurprisingly, Prowl's spike was straining and leaking, and he made no move to touch it. It was a delicious sight, one that made Jazz's valve cycle and lubricate in anticipation. Prowl that wound up was an intoxicating lover, even when being recorded.

~Are they both good to you?~ Mirage asked gently as his frame focused on the far more difficult task of enticing Soundwave's spike out.

~Yes,~ Jazz said. ~They put on staged scenes for Megatron, but ah help with the planning. Nothing ah can't take or object ta. Other than that, freedom of movement inside. Ah'm gettin' 'em both ta fall for me, workin' my way in.~

~And getting their slave coding to bend in a way that Megatron isn't their Lord.~ Mirage said with amazement at his boss's skill, even as Jazz sent back amused approval at how fast Mirage was revving Soundwave up. ~Any hint on who they're looking at to be the new leader?~

~Nada,~ Jazz said. ~Can barely get 'em past thinkin' about wantin' Megatron gone at this stage, talkin' about it's a lot harder. Talkin' about a replacement takes the situation firmly outta the hypothetical, which is the safety zone right now. Y' boss, maybe? Strange'a them ta be talkin' shop for so long.~

~It likely will be Thundercracker,~ Mirage mused. ~Or Starscream will be a figurehead with Thundercracker actually calling the shots. There really are not many good leaders to pick from.~

Jazz sighed. ~'S too bad about Hot Rod. He mighta been good at it. Young, but he had somethin' there.~

~I suppose. I found him intolerable,~ Mirage gave a mental shrug. ~He was an Autobot, though. Even if he'd survived he wouldn't have enough standing to manage claiming leadership without facing another civil war. We have to select a Decepticon. At least for the figurehead. I'd honestly suggest Prowl, Soundwave, Thundercracker or Starscream for it. Though with a Seeker, we'll have to deal with a leader with genuine power.~ He paused as hands gripped his helm and began to direct his movements. ~Prowl may hate leadership, but he has a lot of respect from the Decepticons who matter, and we know you can sway most surviving Autobots. His management skill would win over the neutrals.~

~Prowl an' Soundwave would both hate it,~ Jazz said, and his frustration with that fact was clear. ~Prowl might have ta be it for a stopgap, though, if we aren't sure about Thundercracker.~

~I am. From what I've heard he is and he has backing from others, though I'm less sure of who,~ Mirage's thoughts paused briefly as the hot charge from Soundwave's overload crackled down his intake to fuel the building charge in his own frame.

~All right, Prowl's a backup, then. An' someone who should stay involved ta get the 'Bots calm.~ Outwardly, he gave a low moan and flexed his valve. Above him Mirage shuddered and pushed charge through the hardline while blocking any return of it. He had to outlast his boss, and that was a trick on the best orns. Luckily for him, Jazz was at least trying to make him look good today and wasn't fighting him on it. Making him work, yes. Hindering him, no.

Mirage moaned deeply as he worked his thrusts to provide both the best charge to Jazz and the best show for Prowl. He had no doubt the second was the more important. If Prowl found them unusually entertaining, he'd likely ask for Mirage more often.

~Oh he will, trust me,~ Jazz gave a stuttering moan, his frame expressing shock at being pleasured and not just used.

~Good,~ Mirage said as he worked. Jazz was doing a good job of acting confused, casting alarmed looks at his masters as his charge built, and Mirage threw his helm back and pretended to struggle with resisting overload. 

And then Jazz seemed to sense the right moment for Prowl because he cried out, seizing up under Mirage's hands. The charge roared through their joined frames and Mirage's gasping shudders as he fought to bleed off enough charge to follow orders wasn't at all faked. Jazz's valve was tight, complex and so very skilled, but between them they managed to keep Mirage from overloading as the crackling faded from Jazz's frame and he slumped forward.

"Come here," Prowl spread his legs and pointed to his spike as Mirage struggled to focus past his charge. "I want you mouth. Please me and you can have it any way you want it."

~He'll be easy,~ Jazz said before their hardline slipped free and Mirage pulled out of his frame and crawled forward. Jazz could tell just from the once-spy's frame language that this was a bizarre experience for him, but certainly not one he couldn't handle. He slumped, whining in confusion and hiding from the light as Mirage started to lick Prowl.

The Praxian fixed his gaze on the noble kneeling between his legs and shivered with the physical pleasure mingled with the visual. His field was open and rich with arousal and desire. When Soundwave tipped Prowl's chin up to claim a kiss the Praxian nearly lost it right then.

When Mirage's mouth closed around him and pushed down, his moan deepened and Jazz dared to watch. Prowl's expression was tight, his hands were clenching, and his hips pushed up when Mirage's lips touched his array. It was incredibly erotic; watching Soundwave kiss him just made it more so.

"Prowl: mine." Soundwave's rumble came with a soft caress of Prowl's throat cabling, and even at this distance Jazz could teek just how strongly the statement affected Prowl. The Praxian was in bliss.

On a thought from Prowl, Soundwave caught both his hands and drew them upwards as they kissed upside down once more. Prowl's hips drove upwards, right on the edge of overloading.

Jazz whined, staring at the scene, trying to project the image of a slave seeing something that was _his_ duty. Desperation, shock, _want_. No one in the room was paying attention, but it made for a good show. The _want_ wasn't faked when Prowl's keened his overload into Soundwave's mouth and his hips jerked sharply against Mirage's as the noble slave easily swallowed.

Mirage began to lick him clean as Prowl sank into the lounge with a contentedly purring engine. 

"You've earned your reward," Prowl's voice was lazy but pleased. "Take it any way you please."

"Thank you, my Lord," Mirage murmured as he turned around to look at Jazz. He crawled towards him as Jazz stared and whined, then grabbed the other slave's mouth and forced it open. "Swallow."

Jazz gave a show of sudden comprehension and relaxing as his world narrowed to something he understood. With no further direction he eagerly downed the noble's spike and began to turn a lifetime of tricks to use on him. His glossa swirled and his intake swallowed as he bobbed his helm up and down under the firm guidance of his SIC. No one had thought to replace the noble's equipment, which meant Jazz knew all the tricks to get him off hard and fast. He was somewhat inclined to draw the show out, but he didn't think Prowl would mind this version and he was hoping for perhaps a little more time to speak with Mirage before he left.

Mirage shouted as he doubled over, his hands using some genuine force to press Jazz's face against his interface array as he pumped a crackling load down Jazz's throat. Mirage's vents were wide open, his pleasure genuine and to Jazz, plenty of proof that Mirage did indeed overload often, and by spike often enough that it wasn't an unfamiliar sensation.

Jazz started to lap eagerly, like he was starving and the meager amount of energy that transfluid represented was something he craved. Mirage's hands stayed on his helm, but when his spike tucked away and he moved to stand, Jazz grabbed for him and clung, whining pitifully. 

"Needy thing, isn't it," Thundercracker commented to Prowl.

"It gets very little interaction," Prowl motioned towards the small cell that they presented as Jazz's home. "Unless you mind it snuggling yours, it did perform well."

"You are a generous master," Thundercracker complimented him. "Any slave would be so lucky. Leave them there, they deserve it. I'll pour the next round." 

As the three masters settled in to talk about current events--all of it sweetened for the pleasure and praise of their Lord--the two slaves huddled together on the floor. 

The wrist-to-wrist hardline clicked into place, hidden between their frames, as Jazz tucked against Mirage's neck to hide from the light.

~Do ya know anything about any of the others?~ Jazz asked. ~Who is still alive and sane?~

~As far as I know, everyone is still alive from when you were taken,~ Mirage's tone was warning that it wasn't good news. ~I wouldn't suffer many of them to live, if I'd found them in a cell though. Vortex has Bumblebee. Megatron has--~ Mirage's field tightened with pain as he forced the next designations out. ~...Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. I don't know all the designations of those Shockwave has claimed for experiments, but Hound, Fizzle, Pointblank and Skids are among them. Rumor is he still has Wheeljack, too. At least Ratchet seems to think so, he still repairs the Decepticons without complaint. Not much has changed for the others since you left.~

~About what ah thought,~ Jazz sighed. ~Ah'm so sorry, 'Raj.~

~I know,~ the noble murmured, only the faintest hint of pain for all that could have been done and wasn't perceptible, though it was hard to miss that Mirage did harbor some resentment that Jazz had been loyal to the Prime and not the Autobot cause in the end when it had really counted. ~I want to make the call for my mates.~

~Ya will,~ Jazz said. ~If ah can do anything, ah'll make sure of it.~

~I know,~ Mirage sighed between their minds, a reminder that for all the ill he felt towards some of Jazz's choices, he was still completely loyal to him. ~How are you feeling?~

~Better,~ Jazz said. ~'Frag's still runnin', but it's helpin'. Ah remember which is real an' which is fake.~ He tapped his fingers. ~Shockwave'll be a problem, when we get goin'. Freak's loyal ta Megatron all on his own.~

~Shockwave needs to extinguish for far better reasons than that,~ Mirage kept the hiss between them. ~If this plan works, I'm sure our masters will turn us loose to wreak the havoc that needs to be done. I know we will have no objections to Shockwave's demise from the Seeker contingent. Starscream hates him with a passion.~

~Soundwave doesn't like him much more, for all they understand each other better than Screecher.~ Jazz chuckled grimly. ~We'll need a plan for how to take Shockwave out, though. Something to be thinking on until the next meeting.~

~Will do,~ Mirage said. The low, inaudible growl vibrated through his frame.

~Good,~ Jazz nuzzled him faintly. ~So glad you're here. Need a handler like you wouldn't believe. Only you or 'Lash could do it.~

~Mm, you really do. Normally I'd call you a prideful fool for taking on _this_ assignment, but desperate times.~ Mirage sighed. ~You work on them, I'll work on Thundercracker, we'll figure this out somehow.~

~Yeah, we will,~ Jazz agreed as they sank into the almost sub-conscious realm of planning, thoughts, images and ideas flickering between two processors that were barely distinguishable. All the while, they were both fully aware of what the Decepticons were talking about, and every scrap of that data was added into the mix.

"Slave, back in your closet," Prowl's voice was still calm and relaxed when he gave the order.

Jazz roused from the almost hypnotic state they'd been in before squeezing Mirage's hand. ~See ya.~

~Take care of yourself,~ Mirage said before the connection silently unhooked and retracted, all hidden from the cameras.

Jazz reluctantly uncurled from hiding from the light and scrambled for his cabinet cell and the darkness it represented. He put himself into position, felt the restraints automatically click into place before the slide retracted, sending him into darkness for nearly twenty kliks.

When the slide came out, it was to Prowl's field, pleased, thankful and checking on him.

"Thank you, m'Lord, another one, m'Lord," he said with a teasing grin when he could meet Prowl's optics.

Prowl rolled his optics. "Cameras are off. You gave a good show," he added as he helped Jazz up and pulled him close. "Though yes, I'm still rather revved up."

"Are ya now," Jazz purred, fingers play down Prowl's chest. "After all that?"

"As if one overload has ever been enough to sate me after a good show," Prowl rumbled deeply and pulled Jazz towards the berthroom. "I intend to make a Prowl sandwich."

"Mm, and then do I get all the dirty talk?" Jazz asked as he went along, field playing against Prowl's and playing up the arousal in the other mech. Not that Prowl's desires sounded at all bad.

"Talk: later," Soundwave said firmly. "Sate Prowl: now."

"You heard the boss," Prowl actually snickered and gave Jazz a light shove onto the berth before crawling into it as well.

"Workin' me like a damn turbohound," Jazz said as he rolled over and offered his aft, wiggling it as the valve cover slid open.

"It's your fault I want you so much," Prowl grumbled teasingly as he sank into Jazz's valve with a low, eager groan, then leaned forward to cover him and offer his own valve to Soundwave. The host pushed in, and together they worked Prowl through all the overloads he needed to be sated.

Prowl had barely slumped over him before Jazz reached back, bucking a little. "C'mon. Spill. Er, y'know. Talk."

Prowl chuckled and moved with Soundwave to settle on each side of Jazz.

"You first. How is Mirage?" Prowl insisted instead.

"As good as can be expected," Jazz said. "Better than ah thought. Healthier than most." 

"Good," Prowl relaxed. "Thundercracker's an honorable mech. We talked about the economy, the level of unrest and where it is concentrated, who is firmly supportive of Lord Megatron, Starscream, and what changes we can make to stabilize Cybertron on our own."

"Like, what, laws?" Jazz asked. "Speeches? What else? 'Cause way the energon stocks are startin' ta taste, planet's runnin' low, or it's gettin' expensive."

"Both," Prowl said grimly. "Some laws, but mostly enforcement and how best to control corruption."

"Our energon: some of the best available." Soundwave added. "Production shortfalls: troubling."

"Ah'll say," Jazz grumbled. "Y'know, Megatron won his war, and life's barely better."

"It is better for the victors," Prowl corrected.

Jazz grumblingly acknowledged that fact. "Some of 'em, anyway. There are drones out there starving, ah bet."

"Affirmative," Soundwave said with a displeased ripple of his field and a sense of personal failure.

"We do our best." Prowl said a bit defensively.

"No, ya don't," Jazz said. "If ya did y' best, the planet would be thrivin'. Y'ain't _allowed_ ta do ya best." 

Prowl twitched with a deep growl of frustration that Jazz knew entirely too well from early in the war, back before Optimus had broken Prowl of his insistence that what the Prime demanded and winning the war were mutually exclusive. Most likely, it meant that Prowl would be hunting down a fight he could win soon.

Soundwave reached over to put a hand on Prowl's shoulder and the building anger quickly fled.

"Our best: within parameters of our authority," Soundwave rephrased the statement.

"Yeah, that," Jazz said. "Look, ah'm just sayin', ya might need ta think about somethin' more than new legislation at some point."

~Prowl!~ Soundwave's horrified shock crashed through both their processors and brought Ravage down onto the berth with a scramble of other small frames towards the room. Jazz froze, holding utterly still between the pair, and held his processors as still as he could as well.

"It would work," Prowl countered.

"Soundwave: _forbids_." The host actually growled, and within a fraction of a klik all the fight fled Prowl. "Prowl: too valuable to lose," Soundwave added much more softly.

"What exactly are ya plannin, ya fool mech?" Jazz demanded.

"Prowl: intended to ... _remove_ Megatron from power," Soundwave hissed.

"Only two mecha exist he's not expecting it from," Prowl pointed out. "My code's broken enough to manage it."

"Prowl: means _edited_ enough," Soundwave said, his field tightening uncomfortably. 

"Don't get the boss wrong," Frenzy said. 

"He's glad for it," Rumble continued. 

"But you're gonna get killed and that doesn't help anyone." 

"There is no point in talking about it more," Prowl grumbled. "Plan's been aborted."

It was eerily similar to the way Prowl had responded to being shut down by Optimus when he'd tried to bring his plans to the new Prime. 

And he'd obeyed. 

Only this time, Jazz didn't _want_ him to obey. He wanted Prowl to rebel. Soundwave too, but that was harder. 

Soundwave regarded his bonded for a lingering moment while Prowl grumbled in the relative privacy of his processors, watching him work through the annoyance.

"Back up. Edited?" Prowl's scowl was shared with the entire family. "My code's been edited?"

"Ta let ya think," Jazz said quickly. "That's all." 

But Prowl focused on Soundwave. "You knew?

"Affirmative," Soundwave murmured.

Prowl gave another grumbling huff and settled again. "Somebody better have a plan soon, since you don't like mine."

"Ah like yours," Jazz said. 

Soundwave gave him a slicing look. "Jazz: unhelpful." 

"Look ... what if, ya sent me in?" Jazz asked carefully, watching Soundwave the entire time. If the host was going to attack, it would be for a statement like that. Tension flared, it was a close thing, but all Jazz received was a glare of intense displeasure.

"Megatron would _expect_ something from you," Prowl pointed out. "Any plan relies on him letting his guard down."

"No one: is assassinating Lord Megatron!" Soundwave growled. 

"Then get him out," Jazz said. "Throw a coup, arrest him for treason, war crimes, crimes against Cybertron, ah don't care! What does Thundercracker want ta do?"

"Could we _do_ that?" Prowl glanced at Soundwave. "Is there a way to hold the Supreme Commander accountable for the failure?"

Soundwave was silent for a long moment. "Soundwave ... will need to carefully inspect the laws," the host said, very slowly. "Perhaps: a legal route may be feasible in the near future."

"I think ... that might be the best way. For the good of the empire, the good of Cybertron, he should be removed from power. It is not unprecedented," Prowl said slowly, still working over the idea. "Our duty to the empire exceeds our duty to a leader."

"Lord Megatron's dream," Soundwave murmured. "Before..."

"Before he turned away from it," Prowl said softly, his hand over Soundwave's, gently rubbing his bonded's fingers.

Soundwave nodded, and Jazz heard the desire for him to move out of the way. He did, and the host wrapped around Prowl, holding him tight. Jazz pressed against Prowl's back, and they drifted into uneasy recharge in silence.


	16. Planning a Coup

In the six orns since Thundercracker's visit, Jazz knew Prowl had been in serious thinking mode. He was sure a fair amount was on the how of getting Megatron out of power, but that was such a large and complex subject that it was difficult to tell what had Prowl so troubled. Sure, if had been Jazz's mission it would be a simple thing: get in, kill the mark, get out if it's possible. Prowl and Soundwave, even after one dealt with their compliance coding issues, saw it as a much larger event. They looked at legal ramifications, precedent, and needed all the fixes lined up and ready before they made the first move.

He peered into the office where Prowl was working. "Crystal for ya thoughts?" he asked, seeing the flickering in Prowl's optics that indicated he had his external sensors on.

Prowl shifted and turned the chair to face Jazz, then regarded him evenly for a long moment. "How much of the editing is complete?"

"Compared ta...." Jazz said, holding a hand out. "Ah mean, there's my level'a freedom, Soundwave's, and y' in between somewhere. How close ta me do ya wanna get?"

"Compared to what you intended to do," Prowl decided.

"Mm, always intended ta get ya ta the point where y' can decide y'self," Jazz mused. "Ta there ... maybe two thirds'a the work done?"

Prowl thought about that, his optics fixed on Jazz for a long time. Then he motioned Jazz over. "Then finish it."

Jazz eyed him before walking slowly forward. "Not gonna lie, don't love the idea'a doin' this while y' online."

Prowl hummed, then stood and grabbed Jazz by the arm to pull him to the berthroom. "Then you have a job to do."

"Fair enough," Jazz said with a smirk. "But ah wanna copy'a y' firewall code first."

"They aren't much good against Soundwave, you realize," Prowl said with an agreeable flick of a doorwing before he sprawled on the berth in a deliciously open pose.

"Got my own tricks against Sounders," Jazz said with a grin as he moved over him. "'S _you_ ah'm more worried about right at the moment, now that ya know what ah'm doin' in there."

"I understand you managed it before, and you insist it was with his foreknowledge and permission," Prowl pointed out as he drew Jazz down for a kiss. "It's likely the coup's success rests on your skill. Don't let Cybertron down."

"So no pressure," Jazz said before clicking into Prowl's port.

~None at all,~ Prowl purred as the connection opened up. Deep down, Jazz could already perceive the discontent of the compliance code, but for now it wasn't lashing out at either of them.

He hoped it stayed that way. 

~Firewall copy first,~ he said before pulsing data over. Prowl willingly sank into the pleasure and unlocked all but his core firewalls. It was an easy copy, the transfer of the data to Jazz drawing more than a few sounds and shivers from him. Even before Jazz had updated them, Prowl's firewalls had been very good. Now they were even stronger, since Soundwave had taken the opportunities he had to improve them at every turn. The host had put tremendous work into the effort, likely as much as he had into his own, and it showed. 

Jazz stored the data carefully to be executed later and dipped forward into the connection, coaxing Prowl up and about, teasing him with ebbs and pulls of energy and raw data. It was so easy when Prowl wasn't trying to resist or send surges back, and that relaxed acceptance of Jazz's presence in his processors gave Jazz a look into why the compliance coding was being so cooperative. Prowl had spent the last several orns hammering the coding, and his own thoughts and tac-net, with the destruction of Praxus and how involved Megatron was in it.

If there was one thing that could turn this kind of compliance coding on its master, it was treason.

From the look of things, Megatron now had several offenses against him, but Praxus seemed to be the greatest weapon. 

Jazz built Prowl up as high as he thought he could without doing damage before sending the last surge over to knock him over the edge. The frame under him arched and keened as the charge blasted Prowl's awareness to nothing, sending the mech offline before it was even halfway done. The backlash over the hardline and across their frames was intense, drawing a shuddering moan from Jazz, but wasn't strong enough to push him over or stop his progress into Prowl's processors to get to work.

He dove inside, and instead of the subtle, careful changes he'd been making, he started wrenching lines and symbols around, all the while pressing forward the fact that _Megatron had betrayed_ like a shield. He knew what this was supposed to look like when he was done, and right now was a time for fast work and cleaning up later.

The compliance coding snarled at him, but hampered by offline processors and the betrayal that had made Megatron unsuitable and thus put all his orders in question, it didn't assault Jazz with the full force he knew it was capable of. It was a fight in a few places, mostly where he was locking the coding away rather than shifting priority trees around, but the code had already lost much of its bite due to prior work.

Once or twice it got in a snarling bite that tore against him, but Jazz was buffered by layers and layers of frivolous code that he could afford to take a few hits to. How to flirt with a low-level first creation noble in such a way that would get one invited to the private parties, for example. Or how to cheat at Pins so that one's opponent was guaranteed to win. 

The coding could snarl and snap all it wanted, but as weak as it was, and as fast as Jazz was moving, anything it managed to hit would be superficial damage and easily replaced if it was anything that still mattered. Most of it wouldn't be, since so much was of cultures and frametypes that didn't exist anymore.

By the time Jazz was done, the compliance coding couldn't do more than growl from the cage that had been made of its new parameters. It was still as assertive as ever, but the ways in which it could reach out and act were so limited that it was functionally dead.

Prowl was going to have a pit of a processor ache when he came online, but he'd finally be _free_.

With a content sigh, Jazz unplugged and settled down on top of Prowl. He allowed himself a moment to revel in his progress and how much better he felt after Mirage had initiated that unscramble and defrag. Yeah, he needed a handler, and Mirage had been right about being insane to take this mission, but it wasn't as if anyone else could have. He was the only one with a way in, and turning these two was really the only way.

He let himself drift off into recharge, feeling safe there, and even though he knew he shouldn't, let himself slip into fantasy as he lost awareness. It was so nice, to feel Prowl's field entwined with his, the soft hums of Prowl's systems in such good repair, the knowledge that Prowl was reasonably free of his coding once more.

It was a wonderful, and booting up to Prowl's early boot sequence was just as sweet.

Relaxing and drifting, he plugged in and dipped into Prowl's processors to check everything out as it came back online. It went smoothly, relaxed and orderly, and Jazz slipped back out to wait.

The first real sound to escape Prowl was a pained moan and he awkwardly tried to command his hand to rub his chevron shield. Being not truly booted up yet, he ended up smacking himself in the face and left his hand there.

"Shh, take it easy," Jazz murmured as he moved to rub the forehelm instead. "Ya gon' hurt for a while, all right? Side effects. Threw a lotta stuff around in there." 

Prowl muttered something indistinct, but his field was calm. Whatever level of comprehension he had at the moment, it was enough that he wasn't freaked out by the data that had to be scrolling through his awareness by now. That was a sure sign that deep down, Prowl trusted Jazz's calmness to mean that he could be calm.

It was a huge victory for Jazz.

Jazz smiled to himself and kept rubbing Prowl's helm. "Don't bother with pain blockers, either, won't help with this kinda thing. Believe me ah know." 

"Processor aches rarely can be helped," Prowl muttered. His optics were still off, but he was gradually relaxing under Jazz's care. "This much editing will make it last a while, won't it?"

"Yeah, unfortunately," Jazz said, and propped himself on one elbow to lean over him. "How d'ya feel?" 

"Like half my code's been scrambled," Prowl grumbled. "Which probably isn't so far off the truth. You've caged the compliance code rather well," his tone shifted to something between amazed and amused, then turned serious. "Hopefully my physical presence won't be required until I've adapted to the lack of structure."

"Shouldn't take ya long," Jazz said, and kissed his forehelm. "Can ah getcha anything? Something sweet n' crunchy an' maybe spiked?"

"Just stay," Prowl gripped him when Jazz shifted. "Stay. At least for a while."

"Ah can do that," Jazz murmured and settled back down, relaxing over Prowl's frame. It told him just how unsettling Prowl found this moment, and Jazz had learned that it was his field that was soothing in these situations. His field, and silent darkness. Prowl had explained that the lack of input helped him focus internally, but Jazz knew it couldn't be completely true. Prowl didn't want to be alone. He needed an anchor in what had become a terrifying swirl of chaos. That was the disadvantage of moving so quickly. Prowl didn't have the time to adapt by small increments of greater freedom. He'd be fine, Jazz knew his work, so he relaxed, allowed his field to gently entwine with Prowl's until they melded with the perfect harmony of a long-standing couple and settled in to recharge lightly until Soundwave came home.

The host would no doubt be unhappy, but hopefully not too unhappy. Jazz wanted to stay next to Prowl tonight.

* * *

Three orns and Prowl was completely recovered, back from a propaganda tour of the capital with Megatron, Soundwave and the Elite Trine. Soundwave, however, had remained to finish some intel reviews while Prowl had come home. When he arrived, he found Jazz was waiting with a hot shower running in the washracks, the berth made up, and sparkling low grade set out on the berthside tables alongside a tray of candies. 

"Let's get you clean," he said, guiding Prowl first into the shower and helping to wash him down. Prowl's field and doorwings showed his lack of surprise, but also his delight at the attention. They also showed his intense stress at having to continue to play the coding-loyal mech around the leader he knew had betrayed him and all the leader had once stood for.

By the time Jazz turned the solvent off, Prowl was purring, his armor loose, his optics dim with gentle pleasure and his field smooth and content once more.

"Berth with ya," Jazz murmured and pulled him along, getting no resistance. He maneuvered the Praxian down and into a comfortable reclining position, got his doorwings settled around the pillows, and then sat next to him and started feeding him candies. "How was the trip?" he asked as Prowl's glossa curled around his fingers for the treat.

"It was with _Megatron_ ," Prowl grumbled, but he was far too relaxed for it to reach his field. "I never realized how much will it took to keep one's vocalizer muted."

Jazz hummed sympathetically. "How's Sounders doin', he bothered by readin' ya?"

"He is, and more by knowing what must happen. He's ..." Prowl x-vented roughly. "We need to move quickly, Jazz. Not because Soundwave might back out, but because we are within metacycles of the point of no return. If sane processors are not in charge by vorn's end, not even I can fix this."

"That close, huh?" Jazz teased Prowl's lips with a candy as he thought. "Yeah, ah can probably finish 'im up, but he's gonna be harder than you were. He needs more work an' ah've obviously never tossed his marbles around like yours before."

Prowl indulged in playing with the candy and Jazz's fingers for a bit before speaking. "I know, and he doesn't have anything like I do to hammer at the code with. Fully grasping what Megatron did to Praxus was enough to quiet mine but only because I belonged to Praxus."

"At least he wasn't created _for_ Megatron," Jazz said. "Not that ah can tell, at least. Got 'im pretty well convinced that he swore ta Megatron's dream 'stead'a Megatron, but ... still not so simple."

"No, he was created for Kaon, then turned loose when they upgraded," Prowl shuddered at the thought of what his bonded had suffered. "Do you understand sparked society and thought enough to understand what that does to one of us?"

"Yeah," Jazz murmured. "Got ta know it pretty well in my day. He's lucky ta have ya."

"I'm lucky to have him as well. I would not have survived that first vorn nearly so well without him," Prowl murmured as he reached up to caress Jazz's face. "So what do you need to cage his coding enough for him to plan for the real world event?"

"Need him thinkin' about how good things could be," Jazz said. "Distracted, mostly. Not thinkin' about it right before he goes offline for the real work. If he lashes out ah got lotsa ways ta shield and dodge."

Prowl gave a thoughtful hum, then smiled softly. "I believe I have a subject to play off of as he's overloading."

"Oh yeah?" Jazz asked with a grin as he pulled the candy away. "Spill it."

Prowl actually rolled his optics. "The design and details for Umbra."

"Ahh. Yes, that should distract him nicely," Jazz said and returned the candy most of the way, still just out of reach of Prowl's mouth. "Don't roll y' optics at me."

"Don't act like you have to bribe me for answers," Prowl countered.

"Ah already know ah don't have ta bribe ya for answers," Jazz said. "But it is fun ta tease ya."

"And you should be used to the response by now," Prowl gave him a pointed look. "It's not like I change much."

"Not in the right mood for it, clearly," Jazz chuckled. "All right, here ya go," he said before placing the candy back against Prowl's mouth and was rewarded by a glossa curling around his fingers as Prowl delicately took the candy with a pleased hum. "Lemme know when a good time is for Soundwave an' ah'll be ready."

"I'm going to try for tonight," Prowl murmured as he tugged Jazz down for a kiss that shared the melted sweet. "But right now, I want your spark."

"Y'know what that does ta me," Jazz whispered against him with a shiver.

"I do," Prowl's rumble vibrated both their frames as strong white hands stroked along gray plating. "I'm looking forward to seeing you look like yourself again as well."

"Lotta stuff hasta go right first," Jazz said as his locks popped and he pulled Prowl back into a kiss. He felt more than heard Prowl's armor begin to part, but it was the first wave of spark energy bathing him that dragged the needy moan out.

"My plans and will ended one war. It will end this one before it begins," Prowl promised softly before they lost themselves in the bliss of the merge.

* * *

By the time Soundwave returned home from his trip, Jazz and Prowl had recovered and were resting in separate rooms. Prowl was waiting for his mate in the berthroom, Jazz was set up in the living room where he'd be able to hear the cue. The host gave Jazz a glance, then went into the berthroom to be greeted by a light, chirring rumble from Prowl that left no doubt as to the mech's desires.

Jazz smiled to himself as he listened to them greeting after what had been a relatively long absence in their lives together. He could tell from the pitch of Prowl's engines that the mech was starving for his bonded and overjoyed to have him back. It hurt a little to hear their armor part, knowing that the spark he'd been with was now joined with another, but he couldn't resent Prowl for loving a mech that took such good care of him. This was no Stockholm, no alliance because Prowl felt the need for protection. Soundwave had courted Prowl honorably and earned Prowl's affection and attentions just as Jazz had, twice now.

The overload came quickly and powerful, and Jazz had to work to keep his systems from priming. He knew what Prowl intended, knew the lust and intense desire behind it. The whispered words of affection as Prowl slid down around Soundwave's spike were enough to charge Jazz's systems up to the point it was difficult to ignore. After all, it wouldn't be long before Prowl called him in to help blow Soundwave's circuits.

He just needed to be in control by then. 

By the time Jazz heard the click of a hardline cover, he'd overloaded once from his hands in his joints. He fluffed and resettled his armor as he stood, then stretched and headed into the berthroom. Prowl was curled around Soundwave's helm, half sitting and gaze locked with his legal bonded, who had completely bared his face. Neither seemed to react to Jazz's entrance, but he had no doubt that they were both fully aware of it.

Eventually Prowl waved him over to join them with a doorwing.

Jazz shifted onto the berth next to them and had his cable in hand as he relaxed. "How's the welcome home, Sounders?"

"Very pleasant," the host rumbled, his attention still primarily on Prowl. "Jazz: wishes to welcome me home as well?"

"Sounded like fun was ta be had if ah did," Jazz purred, and clicked into the port as it spiraled open in offer.

~Affirmative,~ Soundwave rumbled with the flush of pleasure at the second connection. Jazz could sense more that see that Prowl had him quite distracted. Brief images of a quadruped and glimpses of coding came through, but for the most part that conversation remained between Soundwave and Prowl and held most of Soundwave's attention.

~So this is the new addition,~ Jazz said with very real fascination. So far, details of Umbra's design had been kept quiet and between Prowl and Soundwave, but now they were letting him see some of the design. He pulsed a ripple of energy across into Soundwave.

~Yes, a companion for Ravage,~ Prowl said through Soundwave, causing the larger mech to shudder with the rippling charge. ~It's well past time she had a sibling and lover of her own frametype.~

~Agreed,~ Jazz chuckled as he began to curiously explore the limits of pushing a conversation though a third party. It was a technique he hadn't tried before, and found himself thoroughly enjoying the results. ~Maybe I'll have fewer scratches on me all the time.~

~Maybe. I think she'll still like you though,~ Prowl chuckled, the surge causing Soundwave's frame to arch stiffly between them with a ragged moan. ~I think she gets off on being with a biped.~

~Jazz ... must also consider the possibility, that he will simply end up with twice as many scratches,~ Soundwave said, the words labored as he split them to both lovers, having to push past the influx of nonsense energy coming in from each side. 

~Y' right, a'course,~ Jazz said with a grin. ~Still, maybe ah'll get lucky an' she'll love bein' with a quadruped an' forget all about me.~

~True, but I expect you'd miss that impossibly tight valve eventually,~ Prowl teased him with the truth.

~Ya'd be surprised how much those claws hurt,~ Jazz purred back. ~But y' probably right, ah'd miss havin' a valve ta make love ta.~

~Mine ... not?~ Soundwave's question turned to white noise as he gasped and writhed from the charge pulsing into him from both sides.

~One that Prowler doesn't get possessive about, at least,~ Jazz said, and each glyph was laden with sub-harmonics and as many nonsense symbols as they could carry over.

~Very true,~ Prowl purred, shameless that he wanted something of Soundwave for just himself. ~Unreasonable of me or not. It is true,~ he surged all his desire for them both through the line and Soundwave gasped into an undulating keen as his universe whited out, then sank into the black of unconsciousness. ~Work fast,~ Prowl directed towards Jazz as he went all business in a sparkbeat despite the charge still cascading through his circuits.

~Keep watch,~ Jazz answered, his own switch just as rapid as he dove down and squirmed his way into the host's restrictive compliance coding.

~Always,~ Prowl's tone was soft, but behind it was the power and steel of Prowl's processors.

If editing Prowl was unpleasant, editing Soundwave was a nightmare. While Soundwave had no black box of a tac-net, his processors were no less potent and his coding far more intact. Unlike Prowl, Soundwave had nothing to beat his compliance coding into submission with. There was no equivalent to Praxus here. Just an intellectual game of twisting loyalties.

As he worked, Jazz felt Prowl coo softly to Soundwave, working to keep him under, calm and thinking of their creation-to-be rather than what was happening to his code. As much as it shouldn't have helped, it did.

Soundwave stayed under.

By the time Jazz finished, his own frame was shaking from tension and stress, waiting for a snare to reach out and tangle around his lines and pull until he was completely unraveled. To edit this deep, a certain amount of _self_ had to be exposed, and Jazz knew what Soundwave was capable of given a vulnerability. 

But he finished in just under five joors, still intact, and thankfully pulled out and unplugged, handing the cable over to Prowl so they wouldn't have to speak through Soundwave anymore. 

~That processor ache ya had, his'll be worse.~

~I'll be ready,~ Prowl promised, his fingers gently caressing Soundwave's forehelm shield. Across the hardline, Soundwave's status was unmistakable. He was Prowl's bonded. Though it was only legal now, there was no way for Jazz to miss that the subject of a spark bond had been broached, and they both agreed it would happen, eventually.

He allowed the hurt to bubble up for a few moments of guilty self-indulgence before shoving it back down into its little box. His mate was gone, would always be gone. They'd decided to wait until after the war, and they'd known all the possible consequences. 

Just because Jazz wished for the impossible didn't mean these two mecha shouldn't be together. 

~Ah'll get some energon ready for when he boots,~ Jazz said.

"Thank you Jazz," Prowl's gaze shifted upwards as the cable disconnected.

Jazz gave a shrug and a half-grin. "Yeah, well. Everyone's gotta fuel."

* * *

Jazz settled in the open doorway, arms crossed over his chest and helm resting against the wall as he watched Prowl tending to Soundwave. He was sitting on the edge of the berth, holding his mate's hand and rubbing his forehelm with a frozen oil cube. So far, extreme cold was the only thing Prowl had found to help ease Soundwave's pain. 

The host had barely moved in the three orns since Jazz had wrenched around his code, destroying huge portions of it and blocking off the rest. His processors had never functioned without that massive supportive network and the rewiring and adapting was worse than they'd expected. 

Ravage jumped up onto Jazz's shoulder with a sad croon as she looked at her host. The rest of the cassettes were scattered about the berthroom, waiting and watching in silence. 

"Ah know," Jazz murmured to the felinoid, reaching up to rub her neck.

Prowl whispered something to Soundwave, who denied it roughly. It only made Prowl sigh with a tremble of his doorwings. Gentle white fingers brushed Soundwave's main dataport, and to Jazz's surprise, there was reluctance in opening it, but by the third brush Prowl was allowed to plug in. It wasn't the first time, and Prowl always came away drained to the point of collapse, and it didn't seem to help Soundwave.

Ravage gave a rumble even as she pressed into the touch.

"Yeah," Jazz said quietly. "Ah know it's helpin'. Just hope Prowl doesn't hurt himself doin' it." 

Ravage bonked him. 

"Lettin' Soundwave use him as a base is pretty smart," Jazz admitted heavily. "Just wish it didn't take so much energy ta do it."

Ravage gave a huff and mewl of displeasure.

Jazz just nodded. He knew that in dire times, extreme measures were needed. He knew that efficacy came before comfort. That didn't mean he'd ever learned to like it. 

His proximity alarm went off and he straightened, tense, before Prowl gave a low, reassuring trill. "I asked Thundercracker to come over for a visit," he murmured, with what energy he had to spare. "To keep up appearances. Soundwave has a prepared recording for such an occasion that I will be running. The cameras are off." 

Jazz nodded, relaxed and was ready to open the door when Thundercracker pinged for admittance. Mirage walked in, proud in his status in public, but softening when the door closed.

"You really did a number on them," Thundercracker commented as he glanced into the berthroom where Soundwave was laid out and Prowl clearly strained.

"Just Soundwave," Prowl corrected quietly. "I'm just helping him recover more quickly. Time is not on our side."

"True enough," Thundercracker huffed, then glanced at the two slaves. "Bring me a cube of high grade and then entertain yourselves," he ordered as he sat on the couch and brought out a bookfile to read.

"Yes, my Lord," Mirage murmured as Jazz shrugged and turned about to go retrieve the cube. Mirage followed him and prepared it to Thundercracker's tastes, then returned after delivering it. 

"He still treats ya like that even in private?" Jazz asked.

"Yes," Mirage said. "It's really not that strange. He was a noble before the war. How are you doing? You must have gone in deep for Soundwave to still be laid out."

Jazz shuddered. "Ah was worried one'a us wasn't gonna come outta there," he admitted, then tapped his helm. "But ah gotta walk in the park compared ta Sounders in there." 

"He has more support than you do at the moment," Mirage said gently as he tapped Jazz's main dataport. "Don't forget who you are."

"Mm. Someone trained ya well," Jazz said as he opened in response. He dropped his firewalls as Mirage clicked in and left everything out in the open for him to peruse as he willed. 

Mirage moved through with ruthless efficiency, zeroing in on every moment where Jazz thought of his marks as lovers, or worse, mates. Every moment when the distinction between this Prowl and the lost one became blurred was picked apart in excruciating detail, but generally left intact as they were also all tagged with Jazz's recognition of them for what they were: not real.

The last time they'd met, that recognition had not always been there. 

~Where did the new firewalls come from?~ Mirage asked as he sorted deeper into Jazz's code, checking for the potential damage of opening up as much as he had to with Soundwave.

~Copied from Prowl.~ Jazz watched calmly as Mirage's searching and evaluating lines burrowed into his core, hunting around for abnormalities in the code. ~He got some of it from Soundwave.~

~Better than your original,~ Mirage finally decided, even as he caught a hint of intent on Jazz's part. Relief flooded him, but he held back. ~Are you sure you are that stable?~

~Wouldn't offer if ah wasn't,~ Jazz said firmly. ~Couldn't've done it before now, but ah'm better. Y' need a handler as much as me.~

Behind his shields, Mirage was quivering with need and want nearly as intense as Jazz's had been when they first met here. He was cautious, though. He had to be. He knew Jazz could be a good handler, exceptional even, and he needed it badly. Jazz was in danger, just as Mirage was. To be each other's handlers was risking destruction, and yet desperate times

Mirage withdrew from Jazz's processors, settled himself, and dropped his shields completely.

Jazz x-vented once, steadied himself, and pushed forward. He was half expecting the mess he'd been, but Mirage was surprisingly steady. He'd retreated into his noble upbringing, the rules and mannerisms of it. He'd classified himself as a sold bonded. When Jazz poked around a bit, it reminded him that the Towers not only practiced slavery, they did so even among the highest ranks with their own. It was just called something different. Thundercracker was Mirage's dominant bonded, and Mirage treated him as such. Under those rules, Thundercracker had all rights to Mirage that did not render him unfit to be seen in public. Yet right next to it was a solid understanding that the bonding was not legal. It was only how he kept himself from despair and calling himself a slave.

~Proud of ya,~ Jazz murmured with a smile as he began sorting and marking, reinforcing the charade and its borders with reality.

Mirage was silent, but his pleasure at the compliment suffused their awareness. So did his gratitude for having a handler again for such a stressful mission. Mirage would always check first, for Jazz was far more at risk than he was, but it felt incredibly good not to be _alone_.

~Mmkay,~ Jazz hummed when he was finished looking through everything. ~Wantcha ta limit access to the red flagged memories much as ya can. If ya hafta use 'em, stay focused on the _present_ and why ya need 'em. Ah'm gonna run a defrag, too, if y' ready.~

~I am ready,~ Mirage said, along with a silent promise to comply.

Jazz settled in to monitor the progress of the defrag after it began running. They rested their forehelms together, fingers linked, and focused on the future.

* * *

Jazz cuddled close to Mirage, though he wasn't acting for the camera. This meeting was in no way being recorded. The five of them were talking high treason at least. If they were caught, a slow public execution was the best one could hope for. Which was why Jazz was pressed close to his fellow agent as they watched their careful work come to fruition. Wrist hardlines locked and hidden even from their marks, the pair watched as Soundwave, Prowl and Thundercracker began a slow, methodical plan for the next vorn.

It was radically different from anything Ops would have done, but when the long term goals were looked at, this strange tactical meeting was much more likely to succeed. It wouldn't leave a vacuum of power.

Ops tended to focus on the _action_ part of a plan, not the _re_ action. Make a mark, take it out, let the politicians sort out the rest. 

Only now, they were the politicians as much as they were the assassins, guiding everything from behind the scenes. Struggling to win the war they'd been fighting for so long. 

The Autobots had lost, but that wasn't their war in the end, not really. 

_Cybertron_ was their war. 

Soundwave, despite being functional, was still suffering from the lingering effects of Jazz's actions. He was mobile and cognizant; he just had a mild processor ache left. Though no one would know he was doing that well by the way Prowl still fussed, and Soundwave let him. Thundercracker kept giving Jazz uneasy looks, but he didn't say anything about the obvious.

Prowl drew a deep vent of air in and delved into the part that freaked all three Decepticons out: how to remove Megatron from power.

Thundercracker had voiced the 'kill him' option just once, and didn't make a sound for the next joor over the look Soundwave gave him. So they'd gone on to safer subjects, and now it was Prowl's turn.

"Abuse, rape, failure to perform..." Prowl offered hesitantly. "We've prosecuted for each offense, just not so high."

"Megatron: could feasibly be brought up on each," Soundwave said heavily. "Main problem: there exists no valid force which can legally arrest and try him. Balance of power: nonexistent. Methods to change leadership: none."

Thundercracker looked between them, recognizing that even without coded loyalty, they were both still heavily conditioned to do things legally. "So ... bottom line, this is a coup. No matter how we make it play out, we don't, technically, have the authority to do anything."

"By arresting him, trying him as fairly as we can, we can at least _try_ to do this legally, like we have with others," Prowl pressed shakily. "I can arrest those above me in rank, if I have cause." He looked at Soundwave, needing reassurance even though they all knew what he said was true. "We have cause. We don't have precedent."

Soundwave looked just as uncertain. "The language in those laws: insufficient for the Supreme Leader." 

"Can we _make_ the language sufficient?" Thundercracker asked. 

"Megatron: must sign into law all new laws and edits," Soundwave said. 

"But if it was the two'a y'," Jazz said suddenly. "If ya both brought him somethin' that included the right language an' he signed it, could ya do it then?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave sounded and looked sure of himself, but it was Prowl who perked up the most.

"Yes," Prowl nodded emphatically, then shifted uneasily. "But that would tell him what we plan to do."

"Lord Megatron: paranoid."

"Justifiably so," Thundercracker huffed. "He's been keeping Starscream in check for the entire war and then some."

"Well that's why ya make it vague an' stick it in somethin' boring," Jazz said. "Find the smallest thing ya can, figure out why it's a problem ta his throne, and tell 'im ya need this law ta regulate credits or somethin' or the empire'll lose its spending power."

Everyone looked at Prowl, and the Praxian went silent, sinking fully into himself for long kliks. They could all but feel Soundwave's silent support as thousands of ideas flashed through Prowl's processors, most discarded quickly, others fed into the tac-net as is, while a few were fleshed out before meeting the black box that still ruled much of Prowl's existence.

The silence stretched on, and Thundercracker pulled out a bookfile to read when it became apparent that Prowl would be working for a while.

Jazz and Mirage, familiar with the process, waited patiently, and Soundwave slipped into a light stasis under the watch of his cassettes. 

Prowl finally emerged and took several kliks to reboot and settle all his senses. "I believe it can be done," he said once he was sure he had the attention of everyone present. "There exists already a law that states, once arrested, the state may prosecute for whatever else it can find evidence for, whether or not it was the original charge brought against the defendant." 

"And to arrest him?" Thundercracker asked. 

Prowl's mouth turned up in a small smile. "I have drafted plans for a bill that will be casually titled the Protection and Management of all Good Citizens Law that includes language altered sufficiently that Megatron may be arrested for assault, should he be witnessed committing it by a ranking officer."

"Which means inviting him over," Jazz snickered, even though he was not looking forward to it at all. "Too bad laws aren't retroactive."

"Or getting Starscream anywhere near him," Thundercracker mused. 

"I like that better, and it's easier to arrange," Mirage chuckled softly. "It's a rare decaorn that they don't meet in public and Starscream always come out in worse shape than he went into it."

"First he must sign the bill into law," Prowl cautioned. "And he will scour it, as he does everything, but I believe I have provided enough context that it should be implied that the bill is to provide an easier means of arresting guttersmecha who fight back against law enforcement."

"Soundwave and Prowl: capable of selling the language," Soundwave said with a fair amount of certainty.

"I am certain of it," Thundercracker said solemnly. "Very well. Do what you can to get him to sign. After that, I'll arrange for us all to be in public at the same time." 

"Gonna tell Screamer what's up or just let 'em go at it?" Jazz asked curiously. 

"I keep no secrets from my trine," Thundercracker said with insult in his voice.

"Starscream will relish an extra reason to pick a fight," Mirage explained. "Despite the grumbling and results, he does actually enjoy the verbal sparring part." He gave Prowl a warning look. "He'll need a new partner for that soon."

Doorwings flinched at the prospect. "Hopefully someone who also enjoys it."

"Hopefully," Mirage agreed. 

"So ... Screamer an' Megs, there's nothing'...?" Jazz ventured carefully. "No reason ta suspect he might, y'know, try ta alert Megatron ta plans?"

"There's something, but it's not anything that might create an issue for us," Thundercracker shrugged his wings. "Starscream's processors are completely scrambled, but I know him. He won't betray _me_. He'll never betray trine. He won't betray us when we're promising him the opportunity to taunt Megatron in a cell for the rest of their lives."

Soundwave actually _chuckled_.

"S'long as y' sure," Jazz said. 

"So provided we can get him arrested and prosecuted, hopefully the takeover will go smoothly," Thundercracker said after canting his wings in affirmative. 

"Not many are pleased with him right now," Frenzy spoke up. 

"You're in much better favor," Rumble finished, looking at the Seeker. 

"I have been for some time," Thundercracker accepted the statement. "Now, what laws are we going to change the moment we can?"

"An' back ta the grind," Jazz said. 

"I'll go get the drinks," Mirage said smoothly, and everyone settled in for the night.


	17. The Fall of a Warlord

Soundwave, Prowl, Thundercracker and Starscream were all waiting in one of the last remaining cafes along the main street of Kaon, between Megatron's palace and the military compound. Almost no one could afford to spend money on luxuries, and fewer could afford to provide them. Only ranking officers and favored mecha had any real access to credits and energon anymore, so it was little surprise that Mixmaster ran one of the few left. That it had long been a favorite of several high ranked officers didn't hurt.

~Where's Skywarp?~ Prowl asked as they sipped their energon, talking over a web of hardlines that connected to a specialized hub in the middle of the table.

~He'd ruin everything if he was here,~ Starscream said flatly. ~He'd pull me away before we get what we need.~

~He's gotten much more protective since the war ended,~ Thundercracker explained with a sense that there were _reasons_ , but they weren't going to explain them.

~Glitchy Action,~ Starscream muttered.

~Perfectly functioning Action,~ Thundercracker said with a low rumble, and Starscream rolled his optics, but didn't say anything contrary. 

~You are _certain_ that you can entice him to violence,~ Prowl said, scowling at the white and red Seeker. 

~ _Yes,_ ~ Starscream snarled, wings lifting in warning.

Doorwings flared in response, but a blue hand on Prowl's shoulder settled him quickly, and Thundercracker's hand on Starscream's wing did much the same.

~Starscream: can entice _anyone_ to violence.~ Soundwave pointed out a truth that left the Seeker preening and Prowl just shaking his helm. ~Megatron: six kliks away.~

~You know this will never work,~ Starscream said after a beat. ~Not for long, anyway. He'll get out, and then he'll kill you all.~

Prowl paused for a beat, then leveled his gaze at Starscream. ~He won't get out.~

~If you say so,~ Starscream said with a shrug as he downed the rest of his energon. He unplugged and stood up. "Just me, then?"

"Just you," Thundercracker gave a flick of his wings to say he'd catch up soon.

Starscream turned a smirk on Prowl. "Just relax and watch a real pro work," he said, before casually strolling out of the cafe. Once he was on the street, his walk turned into more of a strut.

Prowl gave a bewildered look at the Seeker, then glanced at his companions. ~What does that mean?~

~Doesn't mean _anything,_ ~ Thundercracker said, rolling his optics. 

~Pointless bravado, for pride,~ Soundwave supplied.

Prowl nodded and returned his attention to the Seeker walking away, and the large gray mech walking towards him.

It was easy to see the tilt of Starscream's wings from where they were sitting, and the way the warlord paused, and then how his fists curled up. 

"C'mon," Thundercracker murmured as the two stood off against each other. 

~What is the fastest way you know of to provoke him?~ Prowl asked curiously. 

~Insult his intelligence,~ Thundercracker said. ~Since there are plenty of things going wrong lately, it's easy enough. That was his--~

Megatron's fists swung in, catching Starscream's helm in one and a wing in the other, sending him crashing to the ground. Prowl was moving before Starscream hit, and was halfway there before the next blow landed.

"Halt!" Prowl's voice carried the authority he had been created for, his doorwings wide and flared with the same.

"Move." Soundwave actually broke into a run after his bonded, fully aware that the Enforcer, and Prowl was in full Enforcer mode now, wouldn't hesitate to take the warlord on by himself to protect a citizen.

Megatron didn't seem to hear and got one more hard kick in against the Seeker's cockpit, shattering it, before Prowl repeated the command and he looked up, confused. Starscream took the moment of distraction to scramble back, playing the part and looking fearfully up at the giant. 

"What is this?" Megatron growled at Prowl. 

"He _attacked_ me!" Starscream shrieked, and Megatron turned back on him with a vicious snarl.

"Assault against a senior Decepticon officer," Prowl responded. "You are under arrest."

Megatron's helm jerked around. "You have no authority to arrest _me,_ " he rumbled.

"Under regulation 1057-86543, section 3 of the Protection and Management of all Good Citizens law, _all_ mecha are subject to arrest and prosecution if an officer witnesses them committing a felony or high crime," Prowl replied smoothly as Soundwave and Thundercracker arrived. Then Skywarp was there, and he and Starscream were gone in a flash.

"I order you, as your _Lord and Commander,_ to stand down and immediately amend the law," Megatron said. 

Prowl twitched, then his expression hardened. "No. For the good of Cybertron this must be done."

"Prowl: speaks the truth, my Lord," Soundwave played his role flawlessly. "Enforcer coding: requires compliance with all laws."

Megatron finally seemed to notice Soundwave. "But you don't have Enforcer coding," he said. "Arrest this traitor." 

Soundwave tensed, but stayed where he was. "Soundwave: will not comply. The law: is clear." 

Megatron looked between all three, running out of options, and then lifted his right arm and the canon that had never left him. It pointed at Prowl and began to power up. "I said, _amend the law._ "

Of those there, only Thundercracker and Megatron seemed surprised to see Prowl move. The enforcer tucked his doorwings under his roof as he lunged forward, putting as much power into his momentum as he could before tucking into a roll that slammed into Megatron's leg and knocked him off balance. Prowl was on his pedes before Megatron recovered.

He didn't make a sound despite the dent in his roof as he came up, weapon in hand, and made a perfect, paralyzing shot into the small gap between helm and neck cabling the angles gave him.

The warlord's frame froze and groaned, then toppled forward onto the ground and remained there. 

"Glad you were on our side," Thundercracker said dryly.

"Be glad that in my last life, my commander crippled me," Prowl responded just as dryly. "Is Skywarp done with Shockwave?"

Before Thundercracker could respond, an exposition shook the ground under them.

"Correction: can Skywarp confirm deactivation?" Prowl asked.

Thundercracker was silent for a beat, and then nodded. "His chamber has been separated from his frame and crushed," he said. 

"Excellent. If he can join us and warp Lord Megatron into his cell, I would appreciate it," Prowl said smoothly, his frame relaxing and doorwings swinging back out, but also beginning to show that he _hurt_ from the impact with Megatron's leg. "If you handle the prisoner, Soundwave and I will deal with Shockwave's slaves."

Skywarp appeared a few moments later. "Same one we looked at before?" he asked Thundercracker, who nodded, and then he vanished with Megatron. 

"Keep your comm lines primed, and check in at regular intervals," Thundercracker said, looking towards Prowl and Soundwave. 

"Affirmative," Soundwave replied. "Rumble, Frenzy: see that slaves are kept informed of current events."

"Right boss," the pair agreed as they jumped out of his chest, then watched as Prowl transformed with a groan. Soundwave transformed to settle in Prowl's front passenger seat. 

"Prowl: should go immediately to a medic," he said as Prowl began to drive.

"After I know the injured are cared for," Prowl replied firmly. "I will not have a spark expire because I was getting a dent repaired."

Soundwave hummed his understanding and they drove in silence, listening to the emergency line chatter that was starting to come in as the few medics who were willing to answer a call anymore arrived on the scene of the explosion. 

No one was surprised that Hook loudly broadcast that Ratchet was authorized to do so, repeatedly, even as Ratchet's voice barked demands over both emergency line and as Prowl came close, verbally. Even as a slave, there was not one medic, and few mecha, willing to disobey him when it came to medical issues.

Soundwave transformed out of Prowl's passenger seat before the Praxian transformed to stalk into the blown-out lab. He was quick to identify Shockwave's remains.

He could see other frames in various positions about the main room, but their proximity to overturned berths suggested that they had been there prior to the main explosion. Ratchet was working on one of them, yelling at a hovering civilian to stop being so curious and go do something useful. 

"Soundwave: has been to Shockwave's prisons," the host said. "He: will go ensure their safety."

Prowl nodded and scanned the area before locking in on who needed the most help that wasn't getting it. "Ratchet. Level 3 first aid trained, triage trained."

"Yeah, fine, whatever," Ratchet said, waving him off. Soundwave could tell the medic was uneasy, almost alarmed by Prowl's presence, but he was doing a good job of hiding it. "Does someone wanna tell me what the pit happened here?" he growled as Soundwave made his way through the debris and over to the lift that would take him to Shockwave's storage holds. 

If anyone answered him, Soundwave didn't hear it. 

The lights turned on automatically when he hacked the door to the cells where the slaves that weren't currently in an experiment were held. They all cringed back, though some relaxed fractionally when they realized the form walking to look into each cell, full or empty, was not Shockwave. At least one had the presence of mind to recognize who he was, though it brought the mech no comfort.

"'S 'plosion?" that mech slurred, and the cracked helm fins flickered faintly as he spoke.

"Shockwave: deactivated. Shockwave's estate: property of the state now." Soundwave focused on the battered mind and pulled up a designation.

Wheeljack.

He was an inventor. If he was still functional after repairs, he would be very valuable to the rebuilding effort.

"Ra'cht," the slave's vocalizer spat out, as others around them began to stir and groan in a mixture of responses. Soundwave didn't hear a single intact voice in the entire mix. 

"Ratchet: repairing those above. Ratchet: expected to repair those here when finished," Soundwave answered even as he continued his slow walk to check on the others there. Minds were in terrible shape, frames battered, but he didn't get any critical readouts from their systems. All were battered, low on energon and none had completely intact processors, but they would survive the orn untended. He had little doubt that his expectation that they would all require reformatting as a mercy was going to be correct.

Half of them were already begging for it, even if they didn't realize it was what they were craving. 

They just wanted to _forget._

Soundwave finished cataloging, finding as many designations as he could and recording them with what remained of the faces. There was no need for Prowl to visit these, which meant that he could be taken to his own repairs as soon as he was satisfied with the progress in the main lab. 

Soundwave returned to the upper levels to check on the progress. 

"Well?" Ratchet snapped at him without looking up from the slave he was trying to repair. 

"Nine slaves below. Status: non-critical. All: require extensive repairs." Soundwave pinged the medic's comm with the data he had. "Ratchet: authorized to enter, perform repairs and remove slaves for further repairs. Soundwave: will be contact for all slaves here."

"What happens to them now, after they're repaired?" Ratchet asked, staring determinedly down. "Who owns them then?"

"The government," Soundwave answered. "Themselves: soon."

The old medic's hands froze up for a moment before returning to their work. "I'd accuse you of joking if I didn't know who you are," he said. 

"Soundwave would not joke about such matters," Prowl said as he stood up. "This one has been stabilized to the extent of my abilities." 

"Good," Soundwave said firmly. "Prowl: will come now."

The Praxian wavered, wanting to help more, but a gaze around, then a look at his bonded, and he dipped his doorwings in acceptance of the order. "Which clinic?" he asked as they walked out of the blast zone and to the road.

"The closest one that Soundwave trusts," the host said, then transformed to fit back into Prowl's alt. mode after his mate settled onto his tires. He pinged the coordinates. 

Prowl's amusement at the answer filtered through their fields as he drove there, but as the kliks passed and combat protocols stood down, the pain he was in took over. It wasn't critical damage, but it was more unpleasant than most things Prowl had experienced, at least that he could remember. He knew his frame had endured much worse. 

The junior medic they went to wasn't surprised to see them show up, and he remained wisely silent throughout the repairs, even though by now news of the events had to have filtered throughout the scant population. He was a survivor. He knew when not to press.

Soundwave hovered just out of the way for the entire repairs, the room thick with silence and knowledge that was not to be spoken yet. When the medic was satisfied with the work, Soundwave collected a disoriented and pain-blocked Prowl, guiding him into a transport and home.

Jazz was waiting in the sitting room as they walked in, but he, too, wisely remained silent until Soundwave had Prowl settled to his satisfaction in their berth, with energon within reach, pillows nestled in all around, and Soundwave at his side. 

"Twins said Megatron's locked up," Jazz said as he came in. "He kicked Prowl?"

"Prowl: rolled into Megatron. Megatron: forced off balance for paralyzing shot. Arrest: successful," Soundwave reported the good news.

Jazz shot a sour look at one of the ceiling corners. "Ya said he kicked him," he said. 

"He did!" came Frenzy's protest as the single head popped out of the ceiling. 

"Learn ta embellish," Jazz said before looking back to Soundwave. "Shockwave?"

"Deactivated," Soundwave said with something close to pleasure. "Evening: went well."

"Thank Primus," Jazz murmured. "Does 'Raj know?"

"Affirmative. Rumble and Frenzy: charged with keeping Mirage and Jazz informed. Thundercracker: also likely to have informed him."

Jazz nodded. "Need anything?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave decided, even as his field reached out to touch Jazz's with thanks-affection. "Prowl: would benefit booting up with Jazz's field present. Soundwave: should be in headquarters."

"Happy ta help," Jazz said as he carefully traded places with the host, bringing Prowl's helm into his lap. "We'll be here."

Soundwave looked at the scene, then reached out to stroke Jazz's cheek. "Jazz: takes good care of Prowl."

Then the host was gone.

Jazz sighed and leaned back, one hand resting on Prowl's forehelm as his optics faded offline. 

_Close._

It was so close to done, he was so close to his freedom and the freedom of what remained of his people. He would keep fighting for them as long as he had to, but he was tired. 

Tired of forcing himself to believe a lie in order to play his role, tired of fighting the delusions, tired of remembering which was real and which was fake. 

He needed to get out, figure out who he was when he wasn't twisting games and lies into the guise of truth. He honestly didn't know who he was, without war, without a mission, without his mate. 

He stroked Prowl's forehelm, felt the rush of affection and worry. 

_Close._

So close.

* * *

Soundwave looked completely normal to all who saw him. Mask and visor in place, his walk steady, his frame upright. He was the epitome of stoic self-control, or being a drone, depending on who was asked. Yet this walk was like no other Soundwave had taken, and one that even a few short metacycles ago he couldn't have conceived of happening.

Here he was though, at the door to the most secure cell ever created for an in-frame mecha. Or at least the most secure for a mecha who used his fists rather than his wits. It wouldn't have held Jazz, even as he was now, for five kliks. Megatron, however, was completely helpless inside. Even so, Soundwave accessed the vid feed to be sure the bars were still in place and it was safe to open the blast door.

Megatron zeroed in on him immediately. "Soundwave." He stood slowly, fixated on on his long-trusted, right-hand mech. "Tell me you are here to correct this _egregious_ error." 

"Negative. Lord Megatron: will face trial and legal punishment," Soundwave's voice, even as it was, still expressed his grief at the truth. "Soundwave: came to ask Lord Megatron to accept Soundwave as his defender during the trial."

"So that you can stab me in the back again?" the once-warlord growled. 

"Lord Megatron: faces almost certain execution without strong defense. Soundwave: can provide that defense. Alternate: Soundwave can ensure Megatron deactivates as Megatron desires. In battle."

"So you want me to _die!_ " Megatron roared as he rushed the bars. "You and all of the traitors! I trusted you!" 

"Negative. Soundwave: wishes for Megatron not to suffer," Soundwave said with quiet force. "Megatron: lost sight of the vision he once had. Soundwave: loyal to that vision. Soundwave: ... cares for Megatron."

"Let me out!" Megatron continued to scream, shaking the bars. "This is treason! You've betrayed me! I will get out, I _will_ get out and I'm coming for all of you! This is _my_ planet, you can't keep me in here! _I own all of you!_ "

Soundwave sighed quietly, unnoticeable by the ranting mech. "Soundwave: will grieve for Lord Megatron's sanity," he murmured before turning to leave.

"Go on, get out! Leave me like everyone else! Even you, Soundwave, _even you!_ " Megatron's howling followed him out. "I am victorious, I am _supreme!_ "

Soundwave could only contain the trembling until the door shut behind him and he was in the safe isolation of the lift. He stopped it between floors, turned off the lights and allowed his grief voice until he was spent.

* * *

Scrapper, Hook, Starscream, Astrotrain, and Soundwave sat together as the jury in the front of the newly-appointed court room. Thundercracker sat at the head as judge, and Prowl was staring Megatron down. There was no defense; Megatron had refused. 

He also hadn't spoken a single word in his own defense throughout the entire trial. His few vocalizations had been continued ranting, threats of death and destruction. 

The back of the courthouse was packed with the public. The trial that had been going for three orns was entirely open, and was being broadcast live all over the planet, unencrypted so even a mecha with just their personal comm could pick it up.

"Does the accused wish to say anything to mitigate the punishment to be handed down?" Thundercracker's deep voice rumbled through the room.

Megatron's dark, heavy gaze moved lazily about the room. "You are all rebels against your rightful Lord and Commander."

"That is what you were against the previous government." Thundercracker raised an optic ridge at him. "What we are doing is upholding the laws you signed for the good of Cybertron."

"Acting Supreme Commander Thundercracker," Prowl's voice called attention to the stoic Praxian that everyone knew had won the war. "Given Lord Megatron's mental condition, I recommend against capital punishment. Mecha should not be extinguished over insanity. We are too few as it is."

"I agree," Thundercracker said, then turned to the jury. "Both prosecution and defense have presented their cases for your consideration. Should you choose, you may retire for deliberation."

"Come on," Starscream stood and motioned the others to follow. The Seeker had been remarkably serious for the entire trial, only taunting Megatron a couple times, and only when the deposed warlord was already wound into a complete fit already. Soundwave, Astrotrain, Scrapper and Hook didn't make any argument. Though Astrotrain and Hook both had a bit of a confused look that there was something to discuss.

"This is treason," Megatron said mildly, sitting in his place as the jury -- the bulk of his command officers -- disappeared into another room. The room was silent and tense for the half-joor the group was gone, far longer than anyone expected them to be absent. When Starscream led them back in to take their seats, his wings were tense but giving no hint of the verdict.

"What is your answer, Starscream?" Thundercracker asked.

"Speaking from a very personal place, and deep, deep from my spark, I find this glitchy pile of scrap guilty on all counts," Starscream said. "The trauma I have suffered _personally_ \--" 

"Thank you, Starscream," Thundercracker said. His optics shifted to the right. "Soundwave?"

"Megatron: guilty on all counts. Mercy: requested on Megatron's behalf."

"It will be taken into consideration," Thundercracker said. "Scrapper?" 

"Guilty," the Constructicon said with a shrug. 

"Hook?" 

"Guilty." 

"Astrotrain?" 

"Fry the glitch," the triple-changer said.

Prowl couldn't quite hide the surprise from his doorwings, but he control it quickly. He'd expected at least one holdout, though now he couldn't have said why. Just that unity wasn't a Decepticon trait. Survival was though, and these mecha had survived Megatron's governing long enough to recognize when there was a new Lord in town and which side would win.

"Very well," Thundercracker nodded to them, then turned to look at Megatron. "For the crimes against Cybertron previously stated, you are to be held in solitary confinement until such a time as you are no longer deemed a threat to society, you request execution by combat, or extinguish by natural means."

"This is _treason!_ " Megatron roared again as he surged up and lunged forward, only to be dropped as Skywarp activated the stasis collar. 

"Take him to his cell," Thundercracker told the teleporter.

Skywarp nodded to his true trine leader, the now-leader of Cybertron, and stepped forward to grab Megatron's limp arm before disappearing with him.

"The duty of this tribunal is complete. It is now disbanded," Thundercracker said evenly. He looked directly into the camera. "The new government structure, laws and purpose will begin to be posted in the morning for public access."

* * *

"Soundwave?" Prowl knocked against the door as it slid back, walking in slowly so as not to potentially startle his mate, who hadn't moved from their berth since the end of the trial nearly an orn previous. "Are you online?" 

"Affirmative," was the dull, flat answer. 

"Y' want some mind-altering substance?" Jazz asked, peeking in next. 

"Negative." 

Prowl let out a sigh and sat down on the berth. "We did what we had to, and now he'll get the help he needs, when he's ready for it."

"Affirmative." 

Prowl exchanged a glance with Jazz, then motioned him over with his helm. Jazz settled on the other side of the despondent telepath. Soundwave didn't move. 

"Ya wan' us ta go?" 

"Negative." 

Prowl stroked Soundwave's forehelm shield. "How long is your grieving cycle?"

"Unknown."

All of them felt how broadsided Prowl was by the answer, but instead of pressing for details, he curled a little closer, extended his field to mesh deeply with Soundwave's and was silent in his offer of what comfort the host could take from his presence. Jazz settled on the other side and they fell silent around the host. The cassettes filtered in and joined them on the berth, and no one moved for three joors. 

Finally Soundwave shifted. "Programmed grieving cycle: twelve orns." 

"Long for a pre prog," Jazz murmured. 

"Generous," Prowl spoke quietly, surprised by the length. He'd often thought the three orns that Enforcers received was a bit long.

"Designed: for symbiots."

"Have you activated it?" Prowl asked gently.

"Negative," Soundwave said quietly. "Soundwave: is not prepared."

"You never will be," Prowl whispered, hurting for the pain his bonded was in. "He saved you from a horrible fate. No one is ready to cope with turning away from that. The coding will help though. It will still hurt after it runs. It simply won't cripple you."

Soundwave nodded. "Soon," he murmured. "There is much to process." 

"Take y' time," Jazz said, rubbing his shoulder. "Whenever y' ready." 

Soundwave tucked closer to Prowl. "Soon."

"When you are ready," Prowl promised to see that the work was done while Soundwave grieved. He stroked the dark blue helm as Soundwave drifted into recharge again.

"How are you doing?" Jazz looked at Prowl.

"I processed my grief while we planned," Prowl explained. "I took longer, but remained functional enough."

Jazz nodded slowly. "What happens now, ta the slaves?"

"They will be freed," Prowl said. "They will be granted full citizenship. Programs will be put into place to aid them with the transition. We expect some will request to be reformatted, or will be too damaged for any other option." 

"Then ah need a favor," Jazz said, and shifted his hand to link with Prowl's. "For 'Raj. Ah wouldn't ask, but ... he needs this."

"And what is this favor?" Prowl looked at him, willing to listen, willing to give if he could.

"'S for his mates," Jazz said, and felt Prowl's curious-confused flicker. "Nah, wasn't just 'Cons that didn't know. Most 'Bots didn't either. 'Raj wasn't popular, an' it was just better all around ta..." He shook his head. "Anyway. He wants ta choose what happens to 'em, an' if they're reformatted, he wants ta take care of 'em." 

"Who are they?" Prowl asked. "I may know if they are still functioning." 

Jazz sighed. "Ah almost wish they weren't, knowin'... Sideswipe an' Sunstreaker."

Prowl shuddered. "Agreed. Reformatting is the best that might happen for them. They may have been damaged and traumatized beyond even that. Ratchet has been working on repairing their frames since Megatron was arrested. He does not have high hopes of salvaging anything. As I understand it, a spark merge would be required to learn if their sparks are too damaged to continue on as sane mecha."

"'Raj can do it," Jazz said firmly. "He knows those sparks better than anyone except each other."

Prowl nodded, his expression grave. "I will speak to Thundercracker and Ratchet about arranging for it."

Jazz x-vented with relief. "Thank you. Means a lot."

"It may well mean two sparks saved. Do you know if they had any plans to bond?"

"They were private," Jazz said. "So ah dunno about concrete plans, but 'Raj wanted ta, after, y'know. Most everyone was gonna wait 'til 'after.'"

Prowl nodded in understanding. "If they do, know that there will be significant incentives put in place to kindle once energon production can support an expanded population."

"Heh. No kiddin'. Not sure ah wanna bunch'a these glitches creatin', but..." Jazz shrugged. "Take what ya can." 

"Indeed, though based on my understanding of a stable spark bond being required to kindle, I do not expect many of them will. Very few former Decepticons can trust that much, and there are few pairings left among the former Autobots. Not even former neutrals are eager to bond. Too many are traumatized by the war to accept the risk." Prowl said softly, regret in his voice even as he focused on his legal bonded.

"Yeah..." Jazz's gaze moved to follow Prowl's. "Can Soundwave create? Y'know, with the whole host thing?"

"We know he can not carry. There is a possibility, if I had the upgrades required that he could create if I carry, though the truth is that my systems are already near their limit. A successful carry for me would likely involve turning off at least my tac-net, and not even Ratchet is sure that is possible. So it is unlikely we will, not beyond the sixth symbiot we have planned. At least not as long as the bond is only the two of us."

Jazz nodded. "Figured so. What a bleak end."

"It is not over yet," Prowl's firm tone spoke of _plans_ to Jazz. Plans that were viable, even if not likely to succeed. "The few pairs who can bond and create will give a future. Each is capable of producing dozens before they are ancients. They will be encouraged and rewarded for their critical efforts to the future. Their creations can bond and create. Even a single couple or trine willing to dedicate themselves to raising creations could rebuild the population of the city within their lifetimes. If we succeed in finding and activating Vector Sigma once more, we can do far better."

"True enough," Jazz said as his optics powered down. "Guess we'll just hafta see what happens."

"And work hard for the best future," Prowl agreed quietly as he allowed himself to settle into a light recharge, Soundwave's helm still in his lap, his thumb still stroking the shield, and his other hand resting on Jazz's shoulder.


	18. Now the Hard Part

Jazz looked around the very, very small apartment that he was helping Mirage move into with the twins. He'd broken in just to see how easy it was, and was waiting for his former SIC as he examined the space. 

Two rooms, one window, a corner with hookups for a showerhead, no dispenser. 

"Knew you'd be in here when I couldn't find you out there," Mirage said, appearing next to him. 

"Mm. It needs some work." 

"True. First thing I did was scout out all the security problems." Mirage cast his gaze about and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Government housing, it's about what I expected." 

"Is it too small?" Jazz wondered out loud. "Do they have any triggers like that?" 

"Not small like this. They both trigger on small dark spaces like the hole in the wall they were kept in, though it's a trigger to go into near-shutdown. Sunstreaker triggers on thinking one of us is in danger, Sideswipe triggers on not being able to see either of us." The corner of Mirage's mouth turned up. "Small space like this will probably help with that." 

"Has Sunstreaker spoken yet?"

"Not with his vocalizer, though he'll pass a message to Sideswipe, and he'll draw things. He communicates well for the most part," Mirage explained.

"That's good!" Jazz said. "Willing communication is always good." He made a _come on_ gesture with his helm. "Let's get this place fixed up so they can get outta that medbay."

"That will make us all happier," Mirage said with genuine excitement. "How are things going for you?" he asked as they set to work fixing the things they could without any supplies but their skills.

"Job's almost up, so, better," Jazz said. He shook his helm. "At this point ah just want out. Ya got the twins, planet's gonna stabilize, helped who ah could."

"Are you going to adopt Bumblebee?" Mirage asked softly. "Vortex did so much to him. He needs one of his own to handle him. No one else grasps how dangerous he can be."

"Yeah. Soon's ah can do it without lettin' any 'Cons onta it, wanna keep his ID safe if ah can," Jazz said as he pulled a panel off to get into the wiring for the door. "Not that it matters now, but old habits."

"Old habits indeed," Mirage laughed softly as he went to work on window security. "Just be aware that his reformat was into some kind of flight frame."

"Oh good," Jazz said. "Frame memory of a SpecOps assassin and no memory of it ... with wings!" He shot Mirage a grin. "Should be fun, at least."

"He's no more assassin than I am," Mirage gave a good impression of a snooty retort. "But yes, it should be interesting. Fortunately it seems his friendly nature has held. He's as sociable as anyone."

"Good," Jazz said. "Always figured that was spark-deep. Y'know he might be the oldest Cybertronian left alive at this point. And if he isn't, he isn't far off." He shook his helm as he started rewiring the door, hooking in a few additions of his own. "Bet we can get the twins home tonight."

"I intend to. Much as I don't like to admit it, there isn't much security systems are going to do against the handful of us that are left. Nothing we do will stop you, me or Soundwave. Anyone else is just asking to die to break into the home of former SpecOps and the terror twins, reformatted or not," Mirage pointed out. "This is all about my peace of processor, not real security."

"Hey, y' forgettin' someone," Jazz protested, shooting Mirage a mock glare. 

"All right, and yours," Mirage said with a smile. 

"That's better," Jazz said as he got back to work. "Like ah said, old habits." 

"Old habits," Mirage sighed in agreement. 

Between the two of them, they got the security of the place up to their satisfaction, given what they had to work with, before it was even dark. Alarms, cameras, trick codes, energy fields on every doorway, and more throughout the small space. 

"How're they gettin' here?" Jazz asked. "Ah got a few more joors before ah gotta get back if ya want help." 

"They have alt modes and are cleared to drive, so long as they have an escort. If you'd take up the rear, I'd appreciate it," Mirage asked for help from one of the only mecha he ever would ask it from.

"Can do," Jazz said, following Mirage out. "Still with Ratchet?"

Mirage nodded. "Yeah. He wanted to hold them in case of any last klik glitching, but they're released now." 

They reached the streets and settled onto their tires and Jazz couldn't help the shudder of joy to feel and hear his transformation sequence again. Yes, he'd driven over here, and every orn since having his t-cog reinstalled, but after vorns of being trapped in a single mode, it wasn't going to get old any time soon. He could teek it, even hear it, from Mirage's frame that his friend and subordinate felt the same.

The drive was an easy one. Only a few of the officers lived outside one of the two major rebuild areas. There weren't enough mecha left to populate even half of Kaon, and with every Seeker and most flight frames in a second area built to their specifics, the city's population was mostly in a single quadrant. From Soundwave's home on the far, far edge to the medical facility in the core it wasn't even a half joor's drive.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe --Primus, _Sunstreaker and Sideswipe_ \-- were sitting at a table with three other mecha, playing a simple card game. They didn't look at all like the twins Cybertron had known and feared for so long. The facial features were similar, but the helm designs, frame designs, colors ... all were very different. They were sky blue and white now, a match for Mirage, and they looked calm, and _happy._ Jazz had to stop in the doorway and just watch the surreal scene for a moment. His processor overlaid their old looks onto the scene easily enough, but only because he had long been used to living around mecha who didn't keep their looks from orn to orn. 

The one thing that didn't fit, the thing that made Jazz stare, was the calm happiness.

::I get that feeling too,:: Mirage said sadly, and Jazz nodded. 

The door closing behind them had everyone looking up. Most gave Mirage and the newcomer a friendly look or wave, but Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were on their pedes with happy grins as they rushed to embrace their creator-lover. 

They were still taller than him, and much bigger, and completely surrounded him with their frames. Jazz didn't miss that Sunstreaker placed himself between him and the other two. Despite that, there was no overt sense of danger from him, no teek of violence barely constrained. No warning growl of the engine or vocalizer, no fluffed out or tightened down armor.

It was the subconscious move of a protective civilian, and in that, Jazz could only smile and watch as the pair greeted and were greeted in turn, both sides intent on assuring themselves that the other was fine.

Eventually, they both looked his way, more curious than cautious, and Mirage extracted himself from between them. "This is Jazz," he said, looking up at both of them. "He's a very old friend of mine, and I trust him with my life." 

Sunstreaker nodded in understanding and Sideswipe held his hand out. Jazz accepted it, and his spark felt shattered in his chest to be introduced to two of his oldest friends. 

Sideswipe smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the pain behind the stranger's smile. "Hi, guess you know about us already? I'm Sideswipe, he's Sunstreaker. Sorry if we ever take a swing at you, guess we went through some slag and sometimes we're twitchy."

"Primarily when ya think one of ya's in trouble," Jazz replied easily. "Ah got the briefing, and ah'm glad ta meet ya."

Sideswipe nodded and Sunstreaker held his own hand out with a small smile. 

Sideswipe looked to Mirage. "We're going home?" he asked hopefully. "With you, finally?"

"Yes," Mirage said warmly. "Finally. I hope you like it." 

Mirage left briefly to confirm with Ratchet that he was taking them home, and then all four began to drive back. 

::How well do they 'remember' ya?:: Jazz asked.

::Their sparks do, and reacted to me with intense relief on that first merge. They thought I had snuck in to kill them  out of mercy. I didn't exactly dissuade their processors of the notion before I dropped them into stasis,:: Mirage replied, grief heavy in his voice, but carefully shielded from his field, for his mates' sake. ::Their first boot into this life was with me there, my field welcoming them. They know I was someone special to them before the reformat, but they've never asked what. Whatever their sparks remember is enough for them. They wanted to be lovers shortly after they worked out those parts with each other.::

Jazz was quiet for a few kliks as he imagined that, and grieved for his friends and who they had once been. The twins, through Mirage, had become part of the small group he considered family, almost all of whom were now gone in one way or another. 

At least Mirage had been there with them in their final moments, and they had probably expected the peace of the Well to follow that last merge. For two warriors who had doubtlessly expected a painful death on the battlefield, it was a merciful end, no matter what had come before. They had been together in the end, the only thing they had ever prayed for. 

::They're lovers already?:: he finally asked with a chuckle. ::That was fast.::

::Not that far off what happened the first time, at least between them. They were each other's first that time as well. How fast they came onto me was something of a surprise, though. I rather expected it to take time.::

::Prowl took forever first time around,:: Jazz said. ::Second time around, think he wanted me as soon as he got a good teek.::

::Much to our benefit, and I expect only because we merged with our respective lovers often and deeply. Even if they don't recognize why they want the spark near them, they do,:: Mirage hummed and pulled over to transform.

Jazz nodded as he reached his pedes. The twins followed a moment later, looking around. 

"This is home?" Sideswipe asked. 

"This is home," Mirage said, and Jazz thought he was probably the only one to hear the small hitch in the noble's voice. 

::Would it have been better if they'd just died?:: Jazz wondered out loud to Mirage. ::Cleaner, easier.::

::I chose to have them reformatted,:: Mirage reminded him as they walked inside and watched the twins explore the space. ::So no, I do not believe it would have been easier for me if they had been deactivated. For you ... the war may not have ended as it did if he had been deactivated instead. Prowl was not and is not a grunt, and I ... am not you.::

::No,:: Jazz agreed. "Ah'll leave y' mecha ta get settled," he said, lifting his hand in farewell towards the twins as he saw a look to them that said staying any longer would get him a show he really wasn't prepared to watch. ::See ya sometime,:: he told Mirage.

"Have a good drive," Mirage called back before he was dragged into the berthroom.

Jazz smiled with a small shake of his helm and locked up on the way out, getting a brief ping of thanks from Mirage but no more than that. 

He wasn't due back for several joors, and instead of going home early and surprising Prowl, he decided to drive around the very small city. Partly to enjoy his tires on the ground, partly to spend some time alone in his own processors. 

Being at home was all concentration, all the time, being mindful of who could be watching or recording, what they would be watching for. 

It was all almost over.

The most difficult mission of Jazz's existence, and it was finally, finally almost over.

He just had to avoid getting sloppy in his relief.

He'd be free of _everything_ soon. 

Even his past.

* * *

Jazz knew what was coming. He'd be a free mecha soon. He didn't know exactly when, but the moment he walked into the living room and saw Prowl and Soundwave and all five cassettes, he knew it was now.

He hadn't seen either so nervous in a long time, maybe never.

The official process involved a thorough review of each former hostile, a.k.a. "Autobot." A small council had been formed to review actions from the war and behavior since, and after an interview, would hand down their judgment. 

They'd gone in relative order of rank, starting with the reformatted mecha and moving up from there. As the highest ranked surviving Autobot, Jazz was last to go. 

His interview had been one decaorn ago, and now Prowl and Soundwave were waiting for him. 

"What's up?" he asked.

"The decision has been handed down," Prowl managed a nervous smile and stepped close. His field was a nearly even mixture of excitement, joy and nervous tension. He reached out to touch the much smaller, less intrusive collar Jazz wore, slid a finger along it and then unlatched it. "You are a free mecha."

_Relief._

Relief to actually hear those words, to feel that weight, no matter how small Prowl and Soundwave had made it, lifted away...

The relief was very real. 

"Okay," he said, nodding, and the idea of leaning forward into Prowl's arms and putting his hands on his waist and kissing him slithered into his head. 

He pushed it down. He'd need another defrag once this was over. 

"Thank you," he said.

Prowl turned his helm to give Soundwave a look, and the mech -- why hadn't Jazz realized his face was fully exposed before -- gave a nod. With a fresh wash of nervous energy dancing through his field, Prowl knelt and sought Jazz's hands.

Jazz stared at him, stunned, and forgot how to move as Prowl collected both his hands in his own and held them. Hope bloomed in the Praxian's field.

"Jazz, as a free mecha, we would court you for a triad," Prowl's voice washed over Jazz, through him, promising him the universe if he'd say yes. If he'd just let them _try_.

"Ah..." Jazz reset his vocalizer, then took a step back, pulling his hands out of Prowl's. 

He saw the way the Praxian's optics shifted to focus on their fingertips at the very last moment, and then move back up to Jazz. Prowl grew very still. 

It was the games, Jazz told himself. After effects of the games and the mission, and no way to escape clean from the entire thing. 

He looked at Soundwave, and imagined the host plugging into his mate. Imagined what _his mate_ must have felt in the last moments of his existence, knowing what was about to happen. Prowl could calculate an entire world's potential outcomes in a dozen nanokliks, and he would have had ten times that to calculate the outcomes of being reformatted as a Decepticon. Some of which would have included Jazz's death. 

_His mate_ had died thinking he would be the cause of Jazz's death. 

"No," Jazz said, and took another step away from them. "Ah said thank you, and that's all, ah'm done. This is done." His gaze shifted to Soundwave. "Ya dragged my mate down and killed him. Orders or not, ah know it was you." Back to Prowl. "Y' love the mech that killed my mate. Ya helped plan and execute the genocide of an entire species, some of which were my friends, all ta help a race that fought its own damn way ta near extinction. Ah'm tired, ah'm free, and ah'm _done._ Ah wanna start over, now that it's possible, and that isn't here."

Shock, hurt flashed through Prowl's field and face first in the amount of time it took Soundwave's visor and mask to snap into place. Hurt turned to grief, then the acceptance that only came from core coding set to insist that one was worth only what one was given, and asking was unacceptable.

Prowl would take decades to recover from this, if he recovered.

Slowly Prowl stood, and motioned behind him. Ravage gave an angry growl, but complied and moved closer. 

"Jazz: wishes government housing?" Soundwave asked with a perfect, all-business monotone.

"Ah know where ta apply," Jazz said. "Y' don't hafta bother with it. With me." He turned his head away, pretending not to notice the small box in Ravage's jaws. "Wantcha ta know that ah played ya both, but ah did it for Cybertron. Not ta be cruel. Ah'm sorry it had ta be cruel, but there were more important things ta fix."

Prowl's frame trembled for a brief ruffling of armor, and there was the sound of something being dropped from Ravage's jaws just behind him. She growled again, this time full of hate and the promise of pain.

"Go. Now." Prowl's voice quivered as he dropped to one knee to restrain the felinoid.

Jazz nodded once, turned, and left. 

The door shut behind him with a _click_ and he knew without checking that every security code was already different. The systems were being updated rapidly, cassettes were being assigned routines to keep watch on Prowl's mental state, Soundwave was filing for access to Jazz's future public records based on probable cause. 

And that was fine, all of it was fine, because he was _free._

He still needed to see Mirage about the defrag, and there was work to do, but he could do it truthfully and alone in his mind. 

His fingers strayed up to his neck and he smiled when moonlight washed over him. No collar. 

Prowl would have been happy for him. 

Jazz settled onto his tires. There were things to do, many of them, but first he planned to go for a long, long drive.

* * *

With Jazz gone, Prowl went from restraining Ravage to holding onto her for dear life as his world and assumed truths came crashing down inside him. As much as his spark hurt, it was a secondary concern for the panic-inducing pain the upset was causing his logic chips and tac-net.

Soundwave was immediately at his back, and arms were tight around his shoulders and the telepath was _inside_ his mind, all of him, all of them, meshed. Soundwave's pain nearly equaled his own, and they wrapped together. 

Anger was largely from the symbiots. It didn't come easily to either mech. Grief and loss were long-known quantities, however, and Prowl shook in his mate's arms, grateful to his spark and core for the support Soundwave and the symbiots offered him, wrapped him in. Despite all the pain it caused, Prowl couldn't stop himself from going over every moment, every action and reaction, every choice made to determine if their act of defiance had still been the right one.

Had overthrowing Megatron been for the good of Cybertron?

~ _Yes,_ ~ Soundwave's voice promised him. No matter what calculations Prowl ran, how many different scenarios he created, what Jazz had done to them had not affected Megatron's actions, which had put Cybertron on a destruction course. 

Yes, it had been for the good of Cybertron. Not just the slaves. Soundwave's first assurance helped put that processor ache into a background thread of sorts. While the tac-net was still obsessed with it, Prowl himself could focus on the harder to understand parts.

Like how they could both have been fooled so completely. How Jazz's spark could lie that completely to Prowl's.

How Soundwave hadn't been able to root out the lies and manipulations. 

~Jazz has always been a skilled manipulator. An equal to my own skill. I--~ Soundwave's thoughts faltered at that. He should have known. _Why didn't I know,_ came across as a wave of feeling, a rush, instead of a structured thought. 

~He used us,~ Prowl finished the statement with the truth. ~He. Used. Us.~

Anger flared bright and deadly cold through Prowl's processors. A rage that wanted revenge, and wanted it paid tenfold for the hurt caused to his family.

Ravage's rumbling agreement echoed up from between them, hisses and the snaps of beaks came from above, and Rumble and Frenzy's fields were sharp in their malicious intent. 

Soundwave shuddered. ~Not logical.~

Those two glyphs, from a trusted source, stopped Prowl's anger in its tracks. ~He fooled us,~ he whispered as pain came back. ~He used us. I still love him. _That_ is not logical.~

It was pain in its purest form.

~Jazz's actions: not unprecedented,~ Soundwave said miserably, as his thoughts flowed back into a more structured balance. ~Cybertron will survive now. Prowl ... _Prowl_ has us, all of us.~ Soundwave's visor and mask pulled back. ~Please stay with us,~ he pleaded, turning Prowl's face towards him.

Surprise hit from Prowl's entire being for a nanoklik, then he twisted in Soundwave's embrace to kiss him, hard and determined. ~ _Always_.~

~ _Thank you,_ ~ Soundwave said with a low moan of relief that he wouldn't have to go through this alone. ~Hurts. Jazz ... _hurts._ Trusted.~

~I know. Betrayed us, used us, for the good of Cybertron.~ Prowl focused on that last aspect. ~For the good of Cybertron. Focus on that. We have done worse for the greater good.~

Soundwave nodded and kissed Prowl again, desperate, just to _feel_ something other than the ache that was taking root in their sparks. ~The mech we loved: never existed,~ he said, words he needed to force himself to believe. 

~The mech we loved: deactivated,~ Prowl countered, grasping for a way out of their pain. ~Acknowledge, grieve, return to work. Now ... berth, sparks, accept our loss.~

~Deactivated,~ Soundwave repeated, and latched onto the concept. Deactivated but still existing, just like Jazz's mate. Like so many of the Autobots. _Yes-please-need you-want you-us-surviving-we-will-survive,_ rushed into Prowl's mind.

~Yes. We will survive,~ Prowl agreed with all the strength he had. He had a mate to grieve the deactivation of, but he had a bonded very much alive that needed him to focus on how to get through this. They both knew in three orns Prowl would be functional enough for duty. If Soundwave could just hold on while Prowl processed his grief, Prowl could be there for him fully.

And then they would have each other, and they would survive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that there is a sequel written. This isn't the end.

**Author's Note:**

> A story that came completely from us. No kinkmeme suggestions, despite what it looks like. We really don't require the help to go dark places.
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;


End file.
